


A New Kind of Hunter

by Rennok



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games), Pyre (Video Game), RWBY
Genre: Crossover, Don't need to play either, Explicit Language, F/M, Fused Pyre and Monster Hunter lore, Gen, Kill ALL the monsters!, Kill ALL the people!, This is my first work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-20 13:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 45,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennok/pseuds/Rennok
Summary: The world of Remnant is overrun with terrifying new grimm, the likes of which Ozpin has never seen before. Big, ferocious, and impossible to kill, Ozpin needs some new help. He just doesn't expect it in the form of a slightly crazy 17 year old with an entire armory of weapons larger than his body.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work, so criticism is welcome! I have been working on it for a while on fanfiction.net, but I will now be posting all of the chapters here as well. I do my best to update every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but sometimes life gets in the way of that. Please forgive the first few chapters for being short, as they were written when I was still figuring out how I was going to plan this whole thing out.

Entrance exams had just finished for the newest batch of Beacon students. Almost all of them had passed with (literally) flying colors. The silver-eyed girl found both her chess piece and her partner, and they were bound to be an interesting combination. The eccentric red mixed with the icy white was going to be a fascinating development to watch. Watching the new students take on a death-stalker was quite the feat in of itself. Just as Ozpin was smiling and mulling over his drink, a general by the name of Simmons burst in. Simmons served in Haven as a hunter there, but watching the normally calm hunter barge into his office red-faced and terrified was something Ozpin wasn't expecting.

"Professor! Therehasbeenanewgrimsightinganditssomethingwe'veneverseenbeforeandit'sthreateningwholetownspleaseyouhavetohelpus!"

Just listening to the man was making Ozpin's head hurt, but he supposed whatever the matter was, it was of utmost importance.

"Slow down. Deep breaths. What is going on?"

"Sir! A small village on the outskirts of Mistral just reported an alpha grim!"

"And? Send hunters from Mistral. I understand the concern, but why are you here?"

"BECAUSE IT'S MORE DANGEROUS THAN ANYTHING! It's more dangerous than a nevermore, more dangerous than a geist, more dangerous than a King Taijitu! MOREDANGEROUSTHANALLOFTHEMCOMBINED!"

And here he goes again. But whatever this new grim was, it certainly was proving to be a dangerous one."Do you have any evidence?"

"Yes, some of the villagers who escaped drew pictures, some took photos, and some took video. We even got photos of the village, or what's left of it"

"Looking at these photos was bad. A huge, dragon like beast shrouded in darkness was cleaving its way through buildings as though they were paper. It's teeth looked less like teeth and more like spears, and it's winged arms threatened to blow down mountains. The aftermath photos only confirmed the destructive power of this… thing. Thankfully, the people who fell had already been removed and buried. Homes were cleaved in half. Monstrous footprints portrayed the dynamicity that the beast moved with. It never walked, as though it was a confused animal. It's sole purpose was to destroy, and destroy it did.

"And there are more! Reports coming in from all over-"

"Before you give me more bad news, how large is this thing? What special or elemental abilities does it have?"

"The Rex, as we have dubbed it, is 26 m or 85 feet in length. It didn't show any elemental abilities, but that doesn't mean the others haven't."

"What. Others."

If this was a one time thing, perhaps it could be written off as an alpha grim, something terrible but rare.

As I said earlier, there are reports all over of new grim surfacing. One is foxlike and creates slippery areas that prevent people from escaping. One is a large cat, you know, the kind that have been dead for a millennia? Yeah. One of those is running around shooting ice at people. We have evacuated who we could, but I have a feeling these are only the beginning."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Keep the people safe and keep these reports classified. The last thing we need is a panic that brings these new grim to our doorsteps."

The man placed the photos on the desk and swiftly walked out of Ozpin's office. This did not bode well at all. If she was creating grim this deadly, then he also had to play unfair. She wasn't strong enough to create them from scratch quickly, not on her own. So it was time for Ozpin to strike back. He just needed a little help. Now assigning them to a team might be a bit difficult, but it might be better to keep them apart anyway.

"Qrow. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Please meet me underneath the school."

"Glynda, let's try the new plan out. We are going to need some help from the stars themselves."


	2. Arrival

?

Ow. Cecil sat up, his head throbbing. Where was he? One minute ago he was celebrating with his hunting squad, known as the Dissidents, and now he was here. Alone. At night. Without the Dissidents. However, he wasn't without possessions. He was still clothed, and a short distance away, he could see the Blackwagon, his home away from home. It looks small, but it's bigger on the inside. Inside it held a completely stocked armory, a kitchen, and sleeping quarters for 4 hunters. Those hunters were Cecil, the leader, Tariq, the chef and singer, Roman, the trigger-happy warrior who was more obsessed with an honorable death than hunting itself, and Sasha, the girl of boundless pessimism with a drinking problem. But the other three were nowhere to be found.

Cecil had been hunting since the day he was born, and by no means was he unaware about the dangers presented by it. He was 6 when his father took him on his first hunt against a few jaggi, and he was 8 when he fought his first great maccao, with a team of course. And he was 10 when his father died on a hunt against a tetsucabra. Once his father was gone, Cecil had no one to support him, and so he dedicated himself full time to the academy. Where the academy taught him how to kill, his experiences with the beasts taught him why. The monsters that lived around him were dangerous yes, but they fought for their homes and families, same as anyone else.

Everything in nature is a cycle. The hunter kills the beast of the earth, and eventually, the earth reclaims the hunter. Killing for sport and killing without respect went against everything Cecil learned. Monsters, as they were called, only should be exterminated when they pose an immediate threat to the balance of the world around them.

Hunting with friends was fun and easier, which was the reason for forming the Dissidents. But hunting alone was a spiritual experience. Running until his legs couldn't function anymore, waiting in the dry sands under the blazing sun for a cephadrome, and freezing on the cold mountains in the dead of night, that is what Cecil lives for. The stars and his never quiet dog, Apollo, were his only guides on those hunts, but he wasn't lonely.

While hunting was a personal experience for Cecil in terms of the soul and spirit, he also found it fun. The shot of adrenaline as he narrowly dodged the poisoned tail of a rathian could not be matched by anything else, except maybe demondrug, but demondrug could destroy the insides of a hunter, so Cecil refused to use it for recreational purposes.

Because hunting was such an important part of his life, Cecil held a deep disdain for those who called themselves "hunters", but only cared about the glory of the hunt, but he also hated people who claimed to be good when they weren't. He was sick of people calling him useless because of his age, he was more than happy to remind them that he outranked them all, at HR 199. He was the one who had slain the nakarkos and made a hammer out of it, and then killed another nakarkos with it. His teammates were different. They were capable people who could keep up, but Cecil was secretly happy to be away from them for a minute.

So when Cecil found himself alone in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the Blackwagon for company, he shrugged, went inside, and assessed the situation. It didn't appear that he was in any danger, the Blackwagon still had his complete armory of weapons and armors, and the dinner Tariq had prepared was still hot. He could point out the glowing spear of Roman, and the longsword of Sasha, but to call it a longsword is an understatement. Standing at a reasonable 6'0", Cecil could barely measure up to the monstrosity she called a longsword.

Apollo was the only sign of life in the Blackwagon. The golden dog snoozed happily in the corner, completely unaware of the predicament his master found himself in. Cecil was too tired to think about much else other than the warm food in his belly, the soft bedding in the sleeping room, and the cuddly nature of the dog who now looked at him hopefully.


	3. (Un)Happy Hour

Qrow

Qrow couldn't believe Oz sent him out in the dead of night to find something, or someone who might not even exist. All he was told was "Somewhere near Beacon, a star should fall". Well, big help that was. It had been several weeks since the initiation of his nieces, who had both done very well. Qrow had been searching everywhere, but couldn't find anything. All he knew was he was "near Beacon".

It was happy hour and Qrow was missing it to stomp around in some field. In exasperation, he took another swig of the trusty flask he carried at his hip

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but after blinking a few times, Qrow was certain it was there. A small hut on wheels, with glowing lights inside. It probably didn't count as a star, but Qrow just wanted to go home. He approached, and with one hand knocked on the door, keeping the other hand safely on his compressed sword. But what even Qrow couldn't have expected was who would open the door.

A kid, maybe 17, stood in front of him, bags under his eyes and looking rather grouchy that someone had just woken him up. Nevermind the fact that his house was parked in the middle of nowhere.

"What."

The short, clipped word was not a question, it was a statement.

"Hey kid. Where ya from?"

"None of your damn business."

Kid had a mouth.

"Listen kid, all I'm asking why you're parked in the middle of a field."

Play the caring drunkle for a minute, just in case.

"None of your damn business."

"Do you know where you are?"

"None of your damn business."

Well this was going great. Qrow was irked for so many reasons, but the top of his list right now was an unknown kid standing in front of him being uncooperative. Time for a change in strategy.

"You don't know where you are, do you? You don't know what's happening? I can tell you, but you have to talk to me."

"Come in."

The inside of the hut was surprisingly roomy. A beautiful, golden dog had been sleeping in the corner when it perked up and growled at Qrow. Qrow growled back.

"Down Apollo."

The dog laid back down immediately.

"What do you want?"

I want you to stop being disrespectful. I want you to tell me how this hut is so huge. I want to pet the dog.

"Do you know where you are?"

"No. What did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything to you. We brought you here from God known where because we need your help. Well, I don't need it. Oz needs it. He summoned you here because we are getting terrible grim invasions everywhere and we don't know how to handle them."

"What the hell is a grim?"

What? How could this kid not know what a grim was? Did Oz just bring in the most sheltered, pathetic child on the planet?

"Grim. You know, big, black, scary monsters whose sole purpose is to destroy?"

"They're not monsters, they're just animals."

Aand the kid is also probably a vegan or something.

"Like it or not, they destroy, and we need you to stop them. You're clearly who Oz summoned, and I don't know why, but you're here now."

"Am I getting paid?"

A vegan mercenary. Qrow's night just gets better and better

"No, but we can offer you something else. Lodging-"

"I have the Blackwagon."

"Food-"

"I can cook for myself"

"Friends."

"Alright, you got me there."

"Have you ever had a formal education? Like, an actual school with other people, where you study math and such? Because you look like you were raised by beowolves."

"No."

"Then do I have an offer for you. You come join our academy, and Oz will assess your strengths. If you're good, you may even become a hunter."

"Fine, but I want to sleep first. Then in the morning you show me where beacon is. But I'm staying here for the night"

Looks like Qrow was going to miss happy hour after all.

"Fine."

The kid offered him one of the bunkbeds in the sleeping room. It again impressed Qrow how spacious this "Blackwagon" was.

"Hey kid."

"Piss off."

"What's your name?"

"I didn't offer."

And without another word, he rolled over and fell asleep. He looked comfortable, under all the blankets, with that dog sleeping soundly on top of him. His face relaxed from the angry front he put on into a more calm expression. Evidently, this kid was not afraid of Qrow, to the point of where he let him sleep in his own room without any fuss.

Now that the kid was asleep, Qrow could study his features closer. He took a photo of his face and sent it to Oz, along with his updates. In the dull candlelight, the shadows of his face were accented, revealing a handsome face for a kid. His long black hair reached the bottom of his neck in a careless way, with the front of his hair dyed a powder white, fading into gray, and finally black towards the back of his head. Although his eyes were closed, Qrow made a note of his magenta eyes, and slim purple glasses that rested next to the nightstand. His left ear had three silver rings, and Qrow had noticed that each ear had a piercing in the middle, one that was supposed to help migraines. The candles would have obscured the kid's scars from most people, but Qrow wasn't most people. The kid had a number of scars running down the side and across his face, most of them faded. The most recent one went down his right eye, taking out part of his eyebrow with it. Reminded him of a certain ice queen, who was now the partner of his beloved niece.

Qrow couldn't sleep. Years of training had taught him to be suspicious of everyone, even if that everyone was a 17 year old boy who was currently asleep. He simply had to look at the rest of the hut. Quietly stepping out of the sleeping room, he peeked inside the only other big room in the wagon.

The armory was full of weapons and armor. There had to be dozens of kinds of weapons lining the walls, and dozens of each weapon. Armor stands stood like silent warriors, judging him for simply being here. The armor appeared not to be made solely of metal like most armor in Remnant, but it was made of animal parts. Most hunters opted not to wear armor like this, armor that covered the full body for fear of being weighed down. This armor was surprisingly light, but still to heavy for Qrow. The kid must serve as some kind of defensive paragon for his team.

Qrow began to look at the weapons. There were swords, shields, long swords, axes, spears, lances, glaives, bows, guns, daggers, hammers, and what appeared to be some massive horn. Could that scrawny kid possibly be dangerous with a hammer the size of Qrow's head?

Exhaustion was beginning to take over, and Qrow trudged back to the bed offered to him and fell asleep. What the hell was this kid doing alone with all that gear?


	4. Tour of Beacon

Ozpin

Ozpin called upon the might of the gods themselves to bring me a warrior to combat her monstrosities. The gods who sought balance, lord of light and dark. And instead, they send him this? The kid that Qrow had dragged into Ozpin's office didn't appear like a warrior. A warrior that could possibly fight these monstrosities would have to be strong, brave, and have a presence that filled up the room.

The child who stood in front of Ozpin was scrawny, hungoever, and exhausted. But Ozpin could sense something deeper than underage drinking in this child, and he decided to press a little further. The gods must have sent him for a reason.

"Welcome to Beacon Academy! I am Professor Ozpin, headmaster of this academy"

"Mornin'."

Well, exhaustion did lead to shorter sentences. Ozpin tried again.

"Beacon academy is the primary hunter academy of Vale. We train the best and brightest to not only be good warriors, but good students and people too."

At the words "hunter academy", the child standing in front of Ozpin sprang to life.

"When do I start?"

So this scrawny kid with a very weak aura was somehow a hunter. Or wanted to be, like that Arc boy.

"Well first you have to pass a hunting entrance exam to determine your skill, and then you will have to take some academic tests to place you in your classes. Finally, teams here are generally split into 4, but all the teams are full so you may join as a fifth member to any team you so chose."

"Then let me take the hunting exam. I have armor and weapons already prepared in the Blackwagon, so I'm ready whenever you are."

Ah, the Blackwagon must be that hut Qrow was telling Ozpin about. He would have to ask more about how it was so spacious and how it moved on it's own later, but for right now, this child had piqued Ozpin's interest.

"Please meet me in the cannon room, displayed on your map. Qrow, please rally together his other classmates so the initiation may begin."

Cannon Room

"Aaaaaaaaah! New student! Is it a girl or a boy? Short or tall? Fat or thin? Pretty or ugly? What kind of weapons do they use? Is it something awesome?"

The girl named Ruby Rose was quite literally bouncing off the walls with joy. Her partner stood beside her, with a slight frown on her face.

"Ruby, Professor Ozpin already told us before. All we know is the transfer student is male. So please slow down."

"I for one am excited to see what this new student brings to the table. How will they decide their place if all of the teams are full?"

Pyrrha Nikos was also curious about the new student.

"All in good time, students. All in good time. Please remember to make him feel welcome and safe here. If he passes his hunting initiation, he will pick a team to join, making a team of five. But he hasn't picked on yet, so please calm down. He will be here in a minute."

Ozpin realized with a jolt that he still didn't know the new child's name, or what weaponry he used. He was just going on faith in the gods that he would be good, and maybe would give his name. But Ozpin didn't have to wait long, as the door to the room slowly creaked open.

A must more well-rested looking kid stumbled into the room. Now that his hair was pulled into place, with the white looking well cared for and the black running wild, Ozpin could see this student was actually good looking. He looked less like he had been dragged out of the sewers and more like a teenage boy. His purple glasses sat neatly on his nose and his magenta eyes gleamed with excitement. New, fiery life radiated from his body.

He carried a large axe of beautiful blues, red, silvers, and blacks. It had a small handle at the bottom and a single chamber that possibly held some dust. The blades weren't a consistent metal, but they seemed to be made of… what were they? Perhaps scales or fangs, or maybe they were feathers, but either way, they were rigid and dangerously sharp. The rest of the pole seemed to be in two separate pieces that were combined together. An odd thing about the kid who stood in front of them was between his weapon and the beautiful armor he was wearing, most of it didn't appear to be metal. A child of his build would not easily be able to walk around in that armor with that weapon without being significantly weighed down, so it must be made of something else.

The armor he wore was equally exotic and stunning. It was layered on top of itself to give him complete body coverage. Jagged spikes rose from the shoulder plate and the armor covered every aspect of him with plates or cloth. The armor was foreign looking, made of terrifying bones that seemed to exude a blue gas that dissipated into the air. The silver underlayer ensured that no bit of skin showed, giving him maximum coverage. Was it breathable?

Ozpin quietly walked up and checked the armor while the child turned to talk to his future classmates. It was hard like steel and unmoving like bone. When the gas touches his hand, Ozpin yanked it back in surprise. It… burned. Thankfully Ozpin's aura repaired it immediately, but it did a surprising amount of damage to his aura. And speaking of aura,

"Glynda, please give him his final checkup before we launch him in a cannon"

Glynda walked up and calmly ran a scanner over him.

"No new external wounds, vitals are healthy, no sickness, and… Professor, please come look at this."

Ozpin briskly walked over to the scanner while the child stood there awkwardly.

"His aura is off the charts. You told me it's incredibly weak."

"It is incredibly weak. The scanner must be wrong."

The new student stood up and quietly raised his hand.

"What's an aura?"

Everyone in the room froze and stared. Were they really going to send a kid who didn't know what aura was into the dangerous forest? Glynda spoke first.

"It's a manifestation of your soul. It's how much damage you can take before it really starts hurting."

"Why didn't you say so? I know what's causing it."

Without another word, he striped out of his armor, standing there solely in his black pants and silver shirt.

"Your aura just suddenly dropped into incredibly low levels. Are you alright?"

"Never been better!"

As he put his armor back on, his aura surged to new heights. It went from the level of someone who had never moved in their life to the strength of the stronger teachers.

"My armor strengthens my health, so that might be what's causing it."

"Well, he appears to be in perfect health, so I don't see why we don't begin. You will earn points for killing grim in the forest. Beowolves are worth 5 each, ursa are worth 10, and so on. Your complete roster is in the scroll we gave you. We will be watching your progress and skill, so please do your best."

He stood up with increased resolve, having finished putting his armor back on. He picked up his axe and gave them one last grin before sliding on his bone helmet, adorned with horns and glowing blue eyes.

"One more question before I get launched into the unknown, Professor."

Perhaps he was going to ask about fighting strategy. As he stood on the launch pad, he simply asked,

"What are the four kingdoms?"

The launchpad fired and he was off into the forest before anyone could really comprehend the question. Who didn't know about the four kingdoms?


	5. Super Saiyan, Breakdancing, SOB

Cecil

Cecil grinned as he soared through the air. It reminded him of dropping out of the flying Blackwagon into unknown lands to hunt the unknown. He felt that familiar adrenaline rush as he calmly unsheathed his nightfall axe and bit it into a tree to slow his descent. He rotated around the tree before coming to a stop and hopping onto the silent forest floor. A black and white monster burst forward and lunged. It appeared only to have the strength of a small maccao. One swing on the axe and the monster fell and dissipated into smoke when the strange piece of technology given to him spoke in Ozpin's voice.

"Good start. You earned 5 points"

"Ooooh look at how smooth that was!"

"Anyone can kill one beowolf, Ruby."

"Hey, you still haven't told us your name"

"Nora, now is not the time to ask."

Cecil shut the scroll before it distracted him further. A few more beowolves appeared and he dispatched them with ease. The forest was proving to be quite boring, all of the monsters were the same. Same aggressive attack patterns, same lack of self preservation. It made them annoying to fight, but not difficult. Just as he was mulling over these thoughts while simultaneously digging his axe into another ursa, he heard a familiar roar. One that chilled him to the bone and raised his heartbeat with excitement like never before. Without another thought, he put the axe back on his back and sprinted towards the noise.

Has he arrived at the scene, his scroll began screaming at him.

"Do not engage! Do not engage! We do not know the full capability of this grimm! You have done well enough, please return to the school and you can pick a team. We will dispatch a team of trained hunters to deal with the new grimm, but I repeat, DO NOT ENGAGE!"

Glynda sounded almost panicked over the scroll.

"Nope. I called dibs on the way over."

With a satisfied grin, he closed the scroll and placed it in one of the holding pockets and stepped into the clearing. A quadrupedal grimm with lupine features glared at Cecil. The spikes on it's back lay flat, but Cecil knew they wouldn't for long. Lightning arced off it's body and it emitted a soft, blue glow while it's red eyes shone angrily.

To most, this monster would look like some oversized, dust-charged beowolf, but Cecil knew better. This was some kind of variant zinogre. It's armor is incredibly tough, but Cecil's armor eats this thing for breakfast. The zinogre shot forward with it's deceptively powerful legs, but Cecil nimbly sidestepped and buried his axe into it's leg before yanking it out. Despite it's massive size, zinogres are very nimble, able to perform a number of lightning fast aerial feats as well. It's legs were strong enough to take off an inexperienced hunter's head with a single blow, but Cecil was no inexperienced hunter. He continued to sidestep the lightning charges and tail smashes of the beast while swinging for it's head. The dust chamber clicked and his next blow seemed to deal a crashing blow of ice. As Cecil danced around the beast, it changed strategies. Most zinogres, after being hurt and realizing it is a pointless fight, would lumber off, but this one kept throwing itself at Cecil. It's aggression left little time for Cecil to breathe or sharpen. As he was thinking about his strategy, the zinogre struck.

A heavy kick from it's back leg sent Cecil flying into a tree. His armor absorbed most of the blow, but it still hurt a lot. He could already feel a few cracked ribs, but none of his extremities were broken. He immediately threw down a smoke bomb. Zinogres sense of smell was terrible, and that gave Cecil the time he needed to prepare. First, he chugged down a yellow vial and felt his stamina returning. Then he knocked back a crimson red vial, and he could feel the pain disappearing and being replaced with pure strength. Finally, he replaced the cartridge in the axe with an ice chamber. If a standard zinogre was weak to ice, this one probably was too. He ran out of the smokescreen to be greeted with a deadly sight.

The zinogre was now glowing, lightning arcing faster and more frequently around it. While Cecil had been powering up in the smokescreen, so had the zinogre, and he didn't hear it because of the incredible pain. Cecil sprinted forward, lodged the axe into it's side, jumped off, and landed on it's head. He pulled out his small carving knife and began to dig it into it's skull. As he did, his scroll spoke again.

"Is he actually riding it?"

"That's incredibly dangerous. He isn't even using his axe"

"Hell yeah!"

"Yang, you do realize that this is incredibly dangerous?"

Ignoring the voices on his scroll, Cecil's knife finally found it's weak point. As he stabbed in, the monster tumbled to its side in shock. Cecil grabbed his axe and started swinging for it's head. As his momentum built up, so did his damage. He grabbed the bottom of the axe and hit a small, concealed button. It was time.

The axe began to rotate, and before anyone besides Cecil could fully understand, a massive longsword slammed into the head of the new grimm. Another blow, and another, and another. He continued to unload a vicious combo onto its head, with no sign of slowing down. When it finally regained it's footing, Cecil backed out and lept into a nearby tree. He had injured both of its eyes in his last attack, and so it didn't see him immediately.

This thing is the size of a fully grown zinogre, but is behaving like an adolescent in terms of aggression. The zinogre finally spotted him and began running towards him, and that was exactly what Cecil was banking on. He launched off, raised the huge sword high into the air, and brought it down into the grimm's head. Ice exploded from the capsule and the blade buried itself deep into its head. Both landed next to the other, and both were exhausted, but only one had an axe in it's head.

The zinogre was in too much shock to do much other than roar. Leaving the axe behind, Cecil silently walked up to the face of the grimm and took of his helmet.

"What is he doing?"

"It's still alive!"

"He's going to get hurt."

"Everyone be quiet and watch."

The reasonable voice of Ren kept Cecil from pitching his scroll across the forest as he sat next to it's head. He placed his hand on it's head and began to speak to it.

"Such anger in your eyes, noble beast. You put up an excellent fight, and I am truly sorry I had to end your life, but you posed a threat to the balance of the world around you. You will not be forgotten, zinogre. Thank you for the fight."

Everyone watching the beast saw all malice leave it's eyes and the light of life soon followed. It turned into dust and gradually blew away, leaving nothing behind.

"Too bad. I need another horn to upgrade my daggers."

Qrow sprinted out of the forest and saw nothing but the kid sitting quietly in the clearing.

"Where is it?"

"Dead."

"How?"

"I'm good at what I do."

"What the hell was that thing?"

"I'll tell once I stop coughing up blood. It cracked a few of my ribs."

Qrow picked up the weakened kid and carried him back. He was surprisingly heavy, but perhaps that was just the armor. It was impressive for the kid to be as nimble as he is with this kind of weight. Qrow picked up the sword and the kid, with the last of his strength, clicked something that made it fold back into a compact form. And then Cecil fell asleep.


	6. "I just want breakfast!"

Qrow

Carrying the kid all the way back to Beacon was quite difficult. He was heavy on his own in all that armor and the fact that the axe weighed almost as much as he did didn't help. As he got back, the kid rolled out of his arms and stood up. His aura seemed to kick in and repair the worst of the damage.

"I want to at least get my results before I go into the hospital."

"Kid, I'm pretty sure you pass-"

"I want to see for myself."

After checking him over to make sure he wasn't in any immediate danger, Glynda let him into Ozpin's office.

"What was that?"

Not the first words Qrow expected to hear out of the kindly headmaster's mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"What was that fighting style, what were those attacks, and what was that grimm? You knew enough about it to beat it singlehandedly."

"Oz, I really don't think you should be interrogating him right now. That thing broke 2 ribs, and I patched him up with aura but he still needs to get checked. He also probably has a concussion."

"No, it's fine. That fighting style is an aerial style, and that attack you saw when I finally killed it was called Demon Riot. I take the element of my axe and hold it in before unleashing it in one attack."

"And what is this… 'it'?"

"You mean a zinogre? They're pretty rare where I'm from but they tend to stay away from people."

"Out of pure curiosity, do you know what these are?"

Ozpin threw the photos given to him in front of the kid. Each one held pictures of a different "omega grimm", as they had been dubbed.

"Well yeah. That's a tigrex, that's a mizutsune, that's a rathian, and that looks like a lavasioth or maybe a plesioth."

"I have a request for you. You know their strengths and weaknesses. Could you possibly tell or show us?"

"I suppose so. But right now, I just want lunch."

Ozpin had sent all of the students out when the kid had first gotten launched into the tree. They were too young to watch something like that. And so when the kid stumbled into the dining hall barefoot in long black pants, silver tank top, and a simple, black jacket, people were surprised to say the least.

Cecil

As he walked to the lunch table, he heard whispers all around him. Qrow left him to go talk to Professor Ozpin, so he was all alone. As he picked up his lunch, the carving knife on his hip flashed. He turned around to a torrent of whispers. Kids who thought they were being sneaky but they weren't.

"Who is that guy?"

"I heard he's Ozpin's nephew, that's why he's here"

"I heard he barely passed his entrance exam"

"I heard he wears bones. Is he a member of the white fang?"

"Is that a tail? I heard he's a wolf faunus"

"No dumbass, that's not a tail."

"Is he carrying a knife?! Is he going to attack us?!"

"I heard he gets to pick his team. Why does he get to and we don't?"

Cecil had never been around this many kids, and certainly not high schoolers. The kids he had been around were his teammates, and they weren't exactly normal. Tariq was the most normal, but he already acted like an adult. Roman was bloodthirsty and Sasha had a drinking problem. As he wondered where to go, he saw the short, red wearing girl from earlier waving frantically at him.

"Hey! Come sit over here!"

The entire lunchroom fell silent at once. Everyone waited to see what the new kid would do. He picked up his feet and moved over to the table, and the chatter resumed.

"Does he know her?"

"He walked in with Branwen. Are they related? They both have black hair."

"Tons of people have black hair, dumbass."

He sat down and began eating his muffin. It tasted like dirt compared to what Tariq and Gourmew could whip up. Cecil was surprised to find himself missing home like this, but he had no way of returning.

"Hey. What's your name? And what happened when Ozpin sent us out? I want to hear everything."

The blond beauty of the table glared at him. To most, her intimidating presence would be more than enough to get them to tell her what she wanted to know, but Cecil had faced dragons. What was another one?

"Didn't hear you offer yours."

Now he might get to eat his muffin in peace. As he took another bite, the girl with white hair and a matching scar spoke up.

"My name is Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. This is my partner, Ruby Rose. The bimbo is Yang Xio Long, and the one who refuses to look at you is Blake Belladonna."

"Nice ta meet cha.", grumbled Cecil. Weiss seemed prim and proper. Maybe spewing muffin crumbs at her would get her to leave him alone.

"You know talking with your mouth full is very rude."

"You know asking prying questions is very rude."

Before he could continue to antagonize her, another group of four sat down at the table. Weiss's red face turned away from him in a huff. After that mini-argument, Red was the first to speak up.

"Oh hey! New guy, this is team JNPR! This is Juane, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren!"

Pyrrha extended her hand, and Cecil took it. She had a strong handshake. The blond leader of the new team spoke first.

"So, you get to pick a team? Well I'd of course recommend my team, but team RWBY is also great. Just don't join Cardin's team. They're a bunch of jerks."

And on cue, the ape known as Cardin Winchester strode up, full of swagger.

"What were you saying, Juane? We are best friends, arent we?"

"Erm, yeah."

Cecil could pick out a bully anywhere. He had spent enough time in the academy back home to know them well.

"Well at least he isn't wearing cookware and calling it armor."

Cardin froze mid sentence and turned to face him.

"Well isn't someone bold? And here I was, coming to generously offer you a place on our team."

"Well I don't want it, so piss off."

"I can stand where I please."

"I said, piss off. Then again, if you pissed right here it would probably smell better than you do right now. When did you bathe last? You smell like you've gone rolling around in grimm shit and then sunbathed for a few days to get it really baked in. Or maybe you dunked your head in some mud, and that's why you smell, look, and act like a fucking pig. You know there's a myth that gingers don't have souls, and you seem to be living proof of that. I hope your team isn't as pathetic as you, but then again, his name is 'Dove', so it's not looking good. Now take your tin can armor out of here, its annoying me and I'm eating."

He was pissed. This was the fourth time someone had interrupted him from eating his muffin. Cardin stepped forward and grabbed him by the jacket, hoisting him up and staring directly into his eyes.

"I know a filthy animal when I see one. You don't have to join, but you will respect me. If you want to join these losers, it's no skin off my teeth."

Cecil had had it with this guy's bullshit. Anyone else would have backed off from the large boy who had four friends with him. But Cecil is not anyone else.

His fist shot forward straight into the bigger kid's nose. Cardin lunged at him, and his friends came with. Cecil threw punches to the face, he scratched at their eyes, he sprained fingers, and kicked kneecaps. He fought like a wild animal, with ferocity backing every aggressive and unfair blow he landed. He had been in enough fist fights to know how this worked. While they weren't after his money or life, they were after his pride and he would be damned if he let them have it. He clawed at someone's face and twisted another's elbow behind his back. His body didn't even register the numerous hits he was taking as he continued his feral assault. The cafeteria burst into yelling as Glynda ran in to see four kids attacking one other, but the one seemed to be winning. Everyone was battered and bloody and she forced them apart and into the air with her magic. Immediately, the group of four began spouting their excuses.

"Our leader told us to and we should listen to him! Ozpin assigned Cardin as our leader and he told us to!"

Cardin spoke next

"He insulted and punched me! He called me a tin can!"

Glynda was getting more and more angry by the second, throwing all five to the ground, she snarled

"Mr. Winchester, I warned you not to get physical with the other students. Mr… new student, I expected far more from you. Where you're from, you might settle disputes with fists, but here, you will be civil."

Cecil stood back up and shuffled to the table.

"He was being mean."

And in complete silence, he finished his muffin.


	7. Armor up

Yang

"Who are you?!"

"A new student."

This 'new student' had somehow gotten into Beacon without attending a feeder school, had walking in with Ruby's uncle looking like a complete badass, got into a fistfight with Cardin and his team, kneecapped someone, and was now sitting down with a mouth full of muffin.

"That was awesome!"

He took on the year's four big bullies like it was nothing, but Ren had to ruin it.

"You fight dirty."

"Like a starving orphan!"

"Nora!"

The new kid finished his muffin before letting his now blackened eyes roam back up to Yang. His gaze was lazy and unfocused, as if he had far more pressing concerns than the idea that he had just slammed his foot into a stranger's knee - and that stranger was now being carried to the infirmary while the others had a variety of bite marks, fingernail scratches, and other wounds. He had aimed for the eyes, knees, and crotches, and his weapon of choice was elbows and fingers.

"There are a few rules of fighting where I'm from. Being honorable isn't one of them."

Jaune's head perked up when he heard the new kid mention his past.

"Yeah, where ya from?"

"..."

His magenta eyes shifted down suddenly and he mumbled something that sounded like "far away."

"Ok, but where exactly?"

After this second question from the well-meaning but imposing leader of team JNPR, Ice Queen spoke up

"Juane, he is new, and this is not an interrogation. If he doesn't want to tell us, he doesn't have to."

The new kid had lost all his appetite, and was mindlessly picking at his food before mumbling a thanks and a question no one really expected.

"What… are the four kingdoms?"

Now it was Pyrrha's turn to speak. It was good because she was the most tactful of all of the students sitting there. Weiss, Ruby, and Jaune would have all exclaimed something along the lines of "WHAT?!", while Yang, Nora, and Ren would have probably asked if he had dain bramage.

"The more populated areas are separated into four kingdoms. Atlas, Mistral, Vacuo, and Vale. If I may ask, how do you not know this?"

"I'm from outside. The north. I hunt things there but Professor Ozpin brought me here."

"As a student, right?"

Pyrrha's tone was soothing and reassuring to the nervous new kid.

"Yeah, sorta. I'm suppose to pick a team to join as a fifth member, but I don't know which one yet."

Now Yang had a really good idea.

"Why don't you spend a few days with each team? Then you can realize that team RWBY is the best and team JNPR is also pretty awesome"

For some reason, Blake bristled at this mention, but he must not have seen it because he let a small smile creep onto his face.

"That sounds like a lovely idea, but first, I have to go to the infirmary."

"Did Cardin and his goons get you?"

His genuine grin was replaced by a sly look as he stood up and laughed.

"Those buffoons couldn't get me if they had an army. But unfortunately, I broke or bruised a few ribs during initiation and I should probably get them checked now."

And he strolled out of the room. As he did, Yang caught a glimpse of something flashy on his waist that looked like a knife.

Cecil:

It was quite nice of them to offer to be his friends. Cecil had been alone for most of his life but he was surprised to find how much he missed his crazy friends. Tariq, the team mom who was actually a dude who liked playing the lute and cooking. His lute was still in Cecil's actual destination, the Blackwagon. He had parked it in a small hangar in Beacon used primarily for teacher transportation. As he walked towards it, he was greeted by a familiar, and hungry bark. Apollo came bounding out, and Cecil hurriedly fed him some of the jerky he had smuggled out of the cafetería. Next, he picked up a potion and restored his health, or Aura, as these people had called it. He felt his bones on the mend, and they no longer hurt every time he breathed. Next, he put away the axe he had retrieved from his room and picked up two more - one was a beautiful set of dual blades. Each blade was made of two horns from a magnificent beast known as a kirin. Kirins, despite looking horse like, were classified as elder dragons due to their ability to control the elements. Kirins were lords of thunder, and their lightning fast footing and habitat on top of the highest, coldest mountains reflected that. Cecil had many not so fond memories of pitching a tent on those bitterly cold mountains and waiting for days or even weeks to hear the thunder before the clap of thunder, the sign that signified one of the elusive beats was close. Each kirin is only the size of a small horse, with gorgeous blue fur and lightning arcing all around. It had a wild, white, mane, strong hooves, and a stunning horn on top of it's head. They were fast and strong, like lightning itself, and now like his daggers. One was made of azure kirin horns, and the other magenta, like his eyes. In between the horns and on the pommel was the white fur of the kirin. It held and generated an electrical charge, allowing him to unleash devastating lightning attacks.

Silently slipping the daggers underneath his jacket, Cecil looked for the other weapon he had came for. He had taken the switch axe and nakarkos armor for show during his initiation, but there was no reason to use such weapons. Walking over to the glaive section of the armory, he picked out one of the glaives sitting neatly in the rows and rows of weapons lined up. It was the second weapon he had come for, and he hefted it with ease. While technically classified as a glaive, the Evening Calm was more scythelike. Made of nargacuga claws and fur, the glaive he held was exceptionally powerful. Around 7 ft long, it had a pole in the middle for a grip, and the bottom weighted with razor sharp feathers to counterbalance the top. The upper section was built with a strong bone as the base, and on one side, it held more rigid and dangerously sharp feathers, extending to lengthen the glaive to its full length. The other side of the top half was a folding scythe made of the same, dangerous parts of the nargacuga. They had been more refined to make a smooth inside for slicing and a hook on the outside to grab onto things. Rather than using brute strength and tiring himself out, the balance and weight of the glaive allowed Cecil to swing it with easy by using it's own momentum. Finally, it was strung tightly together with red lacing, giving it a dangerous and beautiful color scheme of navy blue, black, red, and a bit of white.

As he picked up the glaive, Cecil heard the familiar buzzing as something flew and neatly attached to the arm guard he had on under his now rolled up jacket. Most people would jump and scream if an insect the size of their head just lofted over and attached to his arm, but Cecil is not most people.

"Hey Hank."

Hank the kinsect buzzed with joy at being reunited with his master. The glaive he held served as not just a bludgeoning and cutting weapon, but it also served as a conduit for him to convey his will to the oversized monstrosity known as Hank. By spinning, pointing, and blasting certain pheromones, Cecil could command Hank to attack anything or anyone. Whatever Hank attacked, he would bring back to Cecil, and should he get enough different parts, Cecil got some powerful buffs. He didn't fully understand why that worked how it did, but he also didn't understand how a zinogre could be so angry and aggressive without being of the hyper classification.

As Hank settled into his place, Cecil picked up the final thing he had come for. It was a bit beat up, and he would have to repair it in the workshop when no one else was in it, but it's white sheen shone through the low light of the Blackwagon. Known as a heavy bowgun, La Foi looked a lot more like a cannon. It took an inshape hunter to crank the beast back and load another clip into it. It was heavy, slow, and still covered in Deviljho saliva from his last hunt, but it hit HARD. It could fire a range of explosive, both single target and AOE explosives as well as normal and pierce shots. It was blue and gold, with the front shaped like the head of a dragon. It was forged of the heavenly dragon. That dragon was the first job that put Cecil on the map as a cut above eveyrone else. He was told there was a dragon causing problems, so he went and killed it. Once he got back, everyone was gushing about how he was the "godslayer", and how he had "stopped the wheel of life and death", and how "he has etched his name into history with the legends!". The heavenly dragon, the Shagaru Magala, was terrible to fight. It drove anyone near it mad with aggression, similar to the grimm, but it didn't change their physical structure. However, it clouded his judgement, and he was lucky to have managed to kill it.

He had a very painful memory of it grabbing him and rolling around, tossing him about like a rag doll before flying up and landing on him. That alone had put him into the hospital for several weeks while they healed every bone in his chest. During his first encounter with it, it had seemed almost human. When they had first approached, it knew what he was there to do. It calmly analyzed him before launching into a series of brutish attacks that left him dazed and clinging to reality. After one final blow to the head, Cecil had slain it. In its honor, he let it do what it wanted to in the afterlife; kill more things. So he made it into a gun.

As he hefted the final weapon from its resting place, he moved to the armor side, where he had already picked the set he wanted. While it wasn't ideal, it looked damn good and people here seemed to really care about their looks as opposed to the functionality of their armor, but maybe that's because they don't like carrying around a full set. The sleek black and purple armor that stood in front of him was all that remained of a gore magala. Such creatures were shrouded in darkness and mystery. While technically not an elder dragon due to their lack of control of a specific element, gore magalas had 4 legs and 2 clawed wings. When enraged, they could darken the skies around them, and they were fearsome opponents. The armor was made of jet black fur with accents of purple. A charcoal cape hung off the back with his sigil, six eyes in an oval shape with a diamond at the end, scrawled across his cape in beautiful purple ink. The bottom of the cape was tattered from use, imprinting the idea of the gore magala's savagery on anyone who would face him. The shoulders each had 3 claws wrapped around them, and the helmet covered his entire face. Two jagged, purple, horns rose from either side of the helmet.

He slid into the armor and felt himself grow stronger as he put the daggers on his hip, the glaive on his back, and the bowgun in his arm. Apollo happily followed along, and Hank rested, waiting for a command on his arm. He slipped into the room Ozpin had assigned him and set down all of the weapons. The room was quite spacious, as they were generally suppose to house 4 people. He sat down and began his tinkering. Dinner had already finished, and Cecil had work to do. First, clean La Foi. Second, feed Hank and Apollo. Third, attend classes. The third task was looking to be the hardest.

Cecil had never really attended a formal school. The academy he had attended was primarily for training hunters. The world went through them like candy. Every day, another monster claimed another hunter. But in the pursuit of understanding and science, humans continued to throw themselves at beasts 3, 4, 5 times their size. So he had spent less time learning math and more time learning how to dodge a frenzied tetsucabra and the name of every kind of variant of every kind of monster, as well as what type of damage they could do and what you had to look out for - because as his teacher who had later slammed Cecil's head into a door once said: "A stupid hunter is a dead hunter. Hunters who fly and run away will live to hunt another day."

Cecil had always thought it was cowardice. He thought it was all the way up until the day his dad died. His dad was never a great person, but he did his best. His wife ran away soon after Cecil was born, he was told, and his dad was a full time hunter. As the cynics liked to say, he ran around naked in the woods, killing things for booze and whores. And yeah, he probably did. But he did his best.

Cecil wasn't even halfway through cleaning the bowgun before he realized how tired he was. He sent Frank to the arm brace which now hung next to the glaive, and he called Apollo onto the bed. Within seconds, he was asleep.


	8. Back to the Flash

Cecil

It was bright at the academy. Roman was out playing rugby with the other kids who had too much brain damage, Tariq was tuning his lute for the 8000th time that morning, and Sasha was still probably hungover in the bathtub. Cecil still had a headache from the night before. He back talked Professor Blanchard, one of their instructors, and had received swift retribution

SLAM

"This is what it feels like to get hit by a boulder from a tetsucabra!"

SLAM

"This is what it feels like to have a zamtrios land on you in inflated form!"

SLAM

"This is what it feels like to get tail slammed by a glavenus!"

SLAM  
SLAM

SLAM

After the scribes know how long, Cecil was finally let go. He stumbled into the med bay, mumbling about falling out of bed. Falling out of bed wouldn't explain the multiple concussions and sink marks on his head, nor would it explain his fractured skull, as he slept on the bottom bunk. But he kept his mouth shut, so all they could do it patch him up and send him on his way.

Cecil looked around through bleary eyes. He still hadn't come up with a name for his team. Technically it was Sasha's team as she was the oldest, but she deferred to him as she was shitfaced 90% of the day. They needed both an abbreviation consisting of their letters, an abbreviation, a symbol, and a motto. As Tariq frowned at his lute, Sasha puked in the other room, and Roman walked into the door frame, he had it. Who would have expected them to be friends? Who would have expected them to win the Blackwagon in the teamwork competition? No one really wanted them around except each other. Roman was liked because he could hit people, Tariq could sing and play but didn't talk to anyone, and Sasha was… Sasha.

Team Stark. STRC. What a stark contrast they were. The singer, the brute, the warrior, and the drunk. White, red, black, and blue.

The Dissidents. The kids who were always in trouble for one reason or another.

"Those who do not belong, belong." The wise words of one of the eight gods that Cecil worshiped, who brought freedom and light to the world.

As he smiled at his friends and relayed his ideas, he was suddenly and violently ripped from their caring presence. He was torn from them checking his head, promising to kick the shit out of Professor Blanchard, and from the only people who could understand him. He was swallowed up by an unspeakable, terrifying blackness. Jaws of bone white and blood red consumed him as every part of him was ripped apart. He tried to cry but no words could come out. He heard the laughter of Blanchard, he felt the evil around him threatening to utterly destroy him. He saw his father bleeding in his arms, surrounded by darkness. He screamed, and cried, and…

"Cecil! You're going to be late for your first day!" came the singsong voice of Ruby.

He sat up with a jolt, shining with a thin layer of cold sweat. A dream. A bad dream, that was all. He was safe at Beacon, and his friends were probably fine. They were probably pissed that he took the Blackwagon, but they'd be fine.

BANG BANG BANG BANG

He doubled down in horror.

"No… no no nononononononononono… NO!"

He screamed to no one in particular.

A new, quiet voice spoke to him. It was that of Pyrrha, the voice of reason in the sea of terror. His vision swam as he fought to stay awake. He saw an apparition standing in front of him, but it was soon replaced by a closed door.

"Stay alive, Cecil. Please."

"Ok dad."

"Are you alright? May I come in? You don't sound too good." Pyrrha's worried voice carried through the door.

After checking to make sure he was wearing pants and a shirt, he found his voice and could answer.

"Come in."

 

Pyrrha

Pyrrha walked into the room not really sure what to expect. The first thing she noticed was the menacing set of armor that sat in the corner next to some very dangerous weapons. Sitting on the bed was a terrified kid. This wasn't the kid who had told Cardin to piss off, this wasn't the kid who had fought off four, trained students. His eyes were wide and unfocused, and his breathing was erratic. He was covered in sweat, and tears streamed down his face. His handsome hair was disheveled and his glasses had been thrown off the nightstand. His dog, wait, he had a dog? His dog curled up protectively around him as he stroked it and fought to regain his bearings.

"I'm sorry to worry you like that, Pyrrha. I am quite fine now, just worried about the first day. I've never been to an academic school before."

Pyrrha was completely unsure. He looked like he had just woken from some terrifying flashback, not pre-school worries. But pressing him would only stress him out more, so she decided not to try at the moment.

"You have your first class with me. It's actually combat training, so bring your weapon, or weapons I guess. You have your first class in an hour and a half, but it's pretty far from the dorms and you should get some breakfast too. If you need any over-the-counter medicine, don't be afraid to ask. Everyone needs an Advil from time to time."

But he didn't look like he needed an Advil, he looked like he needed therapy.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now, I'm going to shower, and I'll see you at class."

He closed the door and she turned around to a Ruby who looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know I would upset him! I just wanted him to be early so he could see Beacon and maybe get some food and I don't know -"

Weiss came out from behind to corner and said in her own caring way,

"Oh hush you dolt, I'm sure he's fine. If little things like that set him off all the time, Ozpin wouldn't have him here."

All of the girls agreed to split up and get ready for the day. Pyrrha quickly showered and donned her uniform before pulling her hair into a neat ponytail. Everyone else was ready and waiting at the dining hall. As she walked in and sat down with some breakfast, she was slightly disappointed to see that the new kid wasn't there. They all ate quietly until Yang broke the silence.

"Anyone know where the badass new kid is?"

"No idea. I saw him this morning and he didn't look so good, so he might not be here."

As the words left Pyrrha's mouth, someone dropped a tray of food at the table.

"My name is Cecil. Cecil Lucius Corax."

The white front of his hair was now combed and fluffed up, and the back was styled in its wild manner. He had his glasses back on, and they appeared to be undamaged from the morning's episode. He wore the standard school blazer with a necklace of some carnivore's fangs and a single, ivory feather. In the light, all of the students could see the many scars that adorned his face, running down his jaw, across his nose, and one that neatly split his eyebrow and eye in two. His jagged face was handsome and calm, with no trace of his previous meltdown. His eyes were clear as he calmly sipped his coffee and reached for his muffin. Ruby looked like she was about to explode if she didn't get to ask something.

"Do you have a dog?"

"Yes, his name is Apollo, and he is a good boy. He's currently asleep in my dorm."

Blake stiffened at the mention of a dog.

"He doesn't bite, I promise."

"Can you tell us about your initiation? Ozpin sent us out after that roar."

"That was a zinogre. I found it, fought it, and killed it. Nothing much more."

The ever-studious Blake finally spoke to him.

"What's a zinogre?"

"A breakdancing, super saiyan, comboing, son of a bitch."

"What's a 'saiyan'?"

"Nevermind. It's a big, powerful grimm."

He went back to his coffee.

"How are your ribs?"

"Fine. Sore, but fine."

He was avoiding any mention of a fight. Pyrrha had seen the weapons in his room. They were sharp and heavy, and they certainly weren't something anyone could use. But since he didn't want to talk about fighting, she wouldn't mention it.

"I don't have an official schedule yet as I'm not in a team, but I've been assigned to join team JNPR for the day. What's your first class?"

He was not going to be happy.

A grin lit up Nora's face as she stared at her schedule. She had already been here for a few weeks, but she had to make sure.

"Sparring class!"

"Of course it is."

They all finished their breakfast while talking about nothing in particular before the bell rang, sending all students to their classes. All of the first year teams were together along with a few of the older teams. As they all walked into class and sat down, their sparring instructor walked in. Upon scanning her class and seeing Cecil, her neutral expression transformed into a frown. His left eye was still blackened after getting punched by someone in yesterday's brawl.

After quickly correcting her expression, Professor Glynda Goodwitch righted her posture and addressed the class.

"Welcome to sparring class. Today we will be seeing 3 different matches. You will spar until one of your auras drops into a red zone, when you will immediately desist to avoid further harm. You may use your full capabilities to fight, but you must be careful not to destroy the sparring room, as it is expensive to replace. The first match of the day will be Jaune and Cardin. Please get your armor and weapons and prepare to fight. These fights will determine what level of difficulty your missions will be in the next few weeks, so do your best. Mr. Arc, Mr. Winchester, please step onto the arena. The next fight will be Blake Belladonna and Nora Valkyrie, so get ready for your match."

The match between Jaune and Cardin was going to be incredibly mismatched, but it would have been more fair than any other fight. Nevertheless, as the fight started, it was clear that Jaune couldn't even touch Cardin, and Cardin wasn't particularly fast. Cardin blocked all of his attacks with ease, and Pyrrha almost had to close her eyes as Cardin effortlessly threw Jaune around the arena. At last, Jaune lay on the ground as Cardin stood over him with his mace raised high.

"Enough!"

Glynda stepped in and pointed the boys in opposite directions off the stage. Cardin walked off with a smirk on his face and radiating swagger, high-fiving his friends who waited on the size. By contrast, Jaune stumbled off, his face low and shrouded in defeat.

"Next up: Blake Belladonna and Nora Valkyrie. Students, please take your places and remember the rules."


	9. Welcome to the JAM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, short one right here - but I got more

"Next up: Blake Belladonna and Nora Valkyrie. Students, please take your places and remember the rules."

The next match was bound to be a more aggressive match. Blake was fast and Nora was strong, and it would be much more even than Cardin and Jaune. As each combatant stepped onto the arena. Blake held the katana to her side while Nora shifted her stance low and hefted her hammer. At the clang of the bell, they both launched forward. Nora's hammer slammed into Blake, until Blake suddenly reappeared behind her. Cecil, who had previously been sitting uninterested, suddenly perked up and leaned over to Pyrrha.

"What was that?"

Pyrrha, not wanting to get in trouble whispered back without taker her eyes off the fighters.

"What do you mean?"

"She just hit Blake. How did she not?"

"Blake's semblance can make shadow clones of herself."

"..."

"What the hell's a semblance?"

"A manifestation of one's inner power and spirit. A more tangible projection of aura. You saw it first hand by Professor Goodwitch when she pulled you apart from Cardin. Some semblances are much stronger than others. Yang can deal more damage the more she takes, Ruby can burst into rose petals, Weiss can make glyphs for a variety of purposes as well as summon certain creatures. Professor Goodwitch can use telekinesis. Surely you have unlocked your semblance?"

"Yeah, I think I know what you're talking about. And yeah, I think I have it, but I don't like to use it."

"What is it, if I may ask?"

"Rather not say. Dangerous stuff."

"Alright."

They both turned their full attention to the fight. Blake darted in and out, while Nora struggled to find her mark. Blake had to be perfect in order to avoid the hammer blows. She was quick and always landed on her feet, but Nora did not have to land as many blows. She narrowly ducked under a barrage of grenades coming from a certain maniacally laughing Nora. Every move she made was cool and calculated, dodging certain doom every time Nora swung. Unfortunately, no one is perfect. She darted in, but Nora was ready. A crashing hammer blow sent Blake into the floor. As Nora leaped into the air to finish it, Blake rolled out of the way and stabbed forward with gambol shroud. As they both jumped back, Blake's aura was slightly higher than Nora's but Nora hit much harder. Blake reloaded her sword and Nora adjusted her stance. They launched at each other, Blake stabbed at Nora and finished off her aura reserves, but Nora managed to swing in and utterly demolish Blake's aura. As they fell to the ground, Professor Goodwitch spoke up.

"It will be a draw. Well done students, in both fighting and not completely demolishing the classroom. The final combatants of today will be Pyrrha Nikos and Cecil Corax. Students, please get your weapons and step into the arena."

Pyrrha looked at Cecil. They were both equally surprised, but quietly stepped out of the classroom to fetch their weapons. Pyrrha went into the bathroom and switched into her armor before picking up her sword and shield. She generally knew her opponent and their patterns beforehand, but Cecil was a wildcard. The only time she had ever seen him fight was 1 vs 4, where he fought like a wild, cornered, animal. He was dangerous, and she had no idea what his semblance might be. However, he didn't know she had a few tricks up her sleeve herself - she wasn't a multi-time champion of the Vale tournament through luck. He almost certainly wouldn't be expecting her polarity, but she needed not to give it away unless she needed it. As she finished changing and picked up her sword and shield, she wondered which weapon he might be using. Perhaps that polearm he had earlier? Or that massive cannon? It would be a fight similar to Blake and Nora's. While she would probably have a mobility advantage, the weapons she had seen him carrying were heavy and dangerous if he could use them right.

She saw no sign of him as she stepped into the arena. No matter if you were a seasoned veteran or a brand new warrior, it was bound to be an interesting fight. Cecil did not fight like most people, in fact, he didn't fight like a person at all in her experience. He was a savage, and did not care for the honors of battle.


	10. Dirty Fighting

Cecil

He stepped into the bathroom and switched into his armor. He took the sleeker, lighter form of armor made of plesioth skin. It still held some of its original blue sheen, but the black dye he had spread over it allowed it to both match his color scheme and blend into the shadows. It had a few parts of gore magala. The horned, black helmet fully covered his face except for small eyeholes, and the short black cape that ran down his back was split into two parts and made of sleek, black fur. He hefted up the obsidian shield and sword, and stepped into the arena. He had ferried over his relic blade before breakfast, and it was ready to transform. Pyrrha stood across from him, holding a smaller, circular shield and a shortsword. Nora's excited voice rang out from the stands. The rest of team JNPR joined in cheering.

"Sword and shield fight!"

"Kick his butt, Pyrrha!"

"Do your best!"

Even Ren was sounded somewhat spirited. Team RWBY joined as his cheering section.

"You can beat her!"

"We need someone to beat Pyrrha! She can't keep winning!"

Cecil donned his helmet and closed his eyes, blocking out the surrounding sound and focused solely on the being in front of him.

She held a sword and shield, but both were smaller to allow for more mobility. The shield was evenly balanced, so she might be able to throw it, but she may not be able to retrieve it. The weapons these people carried could normally transform into different states, so he would have to watch out for that. Unlike the others, she did wear armor, but it left her shoulders, head, and the hip open as well as her upper chest.

She hefted her shield in front of her and raised the sword above her head in a more aggressive stance. But a hunter didn't last long through aggression. Killing or capturing the target was optional, but surviving the fight was mandatory. As one of his professors liked to say,

"A hunter who flies and runs away, lives to hunt another day."

There had been plenty of hunts Cecil had to abandon for fear of his own safety or the safety of his team, and he didn't mind. These people loved to jump, and soar, but they would tire quickly enough. By contrast, Cecil relied on smooth, quick footwork to dodge and counter his opponent's attacks through small movements. It let him fight for much longer, and in his world, when hunts could last for days, that was of paramount importance. He remembered once when he was tasked with taking down a dreadqueen rathian. Once he had it marked and dealt the first blow, it took 4 days to finish it off. He fought for most of the day, slept for a few hours, and then went back to tracking it through the dark, damp, forest. It was cold, and rained all throughout the hunt, and his team was all miserable, but they finally took it down. This fight would be no different. Play the defensive game, find the patterns and tells, and go for small, safe attacks. He had to use up as little energy as possible because he would tire faster due to his full set of armor. He also was unaware as to what Pyrrha's semblance was. He had seen Goodwitch's telekinesis and Blake's clones, but he didn't know what Pyrrha's was. By the cheers and taunts of the people in the stands, it was clear that Pyrrha was not an opponent to be taken lightly.

He lowered his stance and center of gravity before planting the shield firmly on the ground and the sword at his side. The bell clanged and the fight began. Pyrrha was the first to move, launching herself at him. Despite the seemingly heavy gear, he nimbly sidestepped and caught her arm with the blade of his weapon. This didn't phase her, as she attacked again and again. Sometimes, he was able to roll underneath and nick her, but she was very fast and managed to land several hits. His armor absorbed the brunt of it as he moved to his side of the arena. She was showing no signs of tiring, with a fierce look of determination on her face. His sword was slowly building up its charge, but it wasn't ready. Not yet. He had to save that trump card until he was certain it would be effective against a fast fighter like herself. He had enough health that he could confidently go for a more aggressive approach. His feet dug into the ground as he threw himself towards her. It left his shield to the side and his body open, but it was much faster. Their swords met in the middle, sparks flying. These people focused so much on their weaponry and semblance that they forgot other parts of their body existed and could also be weaponized. Cecil had been in enough fistfights to remember this as he slammed his leg into her unarmored hip before stabbing forward at her neck. This dealt a substantial amount of damage, enough to charge his blade. With the blade now smoldering, he clanged it loudly into his shield. The black smoke dissipated from his sword and instead fermented in his shield. He had enough charge, now it was a matter of when to use it. As he was thinking, something sharp and metallic slammed into his chest, sending him to the floor and knocking the wind out of him. The armor he wore provided high protection from slicing, but was not great against impact damage. As he groaned and rolled to his feet, he saw Pyrrha's shield flying back towards her, as if it was controlled by some unseen force. A smile danced on her face as she threw it again, having found the weakness of his armor.

He knocked the shield to the side and stepped forward before it slammed into his back. While he fell forward, she shoved her sword towards his chest. He managed to bat it away and attempted to sweep her legs out, but she saw through it and leapt away. As he picked himself up one more time, he saw his health was dangerously low. Not enough to end the fight, but enough that one more hit would be the end of him.

She smiled as he straightened his back once more and rolled back his shoulders.

"You're very good."

"Thanks."

His eyes glazed over as he felt himself entering an all-too familiar mental state. He had to win. Winning meant survival, winning meant food on the table. These children that surrounded him didn't know the cost of losing, not on the battlefield. If he lost a fight on the battlefield, Cecil wouldn't just lose his pride, he could lose his life. He had to win, even if it meant being a bit tricky. He was trained to utilize everything to his advantage. The open arena left no room for manipulation there, but perhaps he could play the mind game.

His shield was fully charged and ready. With that thought in mind, he put both the sword and shield on his back and threw his helmet off the stage. He smiled, putting his left hand on the hilt of his sword, and extending his right for a handshake.

"You're very good. I see no reason to continue beating each other into the ground."

Her face was momentarily confused before she put her weapons away and walked towards him. If she sensed his deception, she didn't show it as she walked closer. She wouldn't be able to react in time.

Just as she reached him, he ducked under her arm and yanked on the sword on his back. The shield clicked into place and extended fully into its axe form. Putting all of his strength into one swing, the axe crashed into her back, sending her flying into the wall, and destroying both her aura and the wall. As she tried to pick herself up, he felt something he had never felt before when using that trick - guilt. Monsters would have never fallen for it, and he never fought people in a setting like this. If he was fighting someone, it was for some bread, or because they were being mean. But he had just tricked one of the few nice people in his life and then slammed a fully charged charge blade into their back. He threw the weapon down and ran towards her, trying to formulate words on the way.

"Hey. Good swing."

He couldn't find anything to say except

"Sorry."

"Don't be, it was a good attack. I want a rematch later though", she said with a smile.

"Fair enough."

He extended his hands, both of them, and helped her up. Her armor was banged up, but no permanent damage had been done. She had enough aura reserves to fully protect her from the blow, but she wouldn't have survived another. She took his hand and shook it with a smile before walking back to the changing room, presumably to switch back into her uniform.

As he turned to face the crowd, he saw a mixture of shock and awe on their faces.

"Did he really just beat Pyrrha Nikos? The Pyrrha Nikos?"

"Yeah, but he tricked her."

"Well, the people we fight aren't going to fight fair."

"Yeah, but did you see his weapon?! It's a GIANT AXE!"

"Nevertheless, that was a dirty play."

"When we fight, we shouldn't be honorable. Our lives are on the line out there."

Professor Goodwitch strode into the light and said calmly

"The winner is Cecil Corax. Please go change back into your uniform. It was a good fight from both of you."

He went and hurriedly changed before sitting back in the stands next to Pyrrha. He asked a question he had never asked before, not even to his own former teammates.

"Are you alright?"

When he and his teammates had fought, it generally ended with one of them bleeding on the floor. It was just a question they never had to ask each other because their fights were so rare.

"Yes, I'm quite alright. Thank you for asking."

Goodwitch was wrapping up the sparring session.

"Today students, you saw a number of different fights. You saw one that showed how important restraint is, you saw one that showed how important aggression is. And then you saw one that shows how important victory is. Out in the field, you must understand that people aren't going to be honorable and fair. They will use every tool in their arsenal to win because if you lose, you may lose your life. I hope no hard feelings are had after today. Remember to keep your weapons in good condition, your instincts sharp, and your mind clear. Class dismissed.


	11. Monarchs

Cecil

All of the students walked out of the room, mumbling about the battles they observed.

"He seemed so slow but that's because he doesn't move much."

"That weapon is so cool! It's a massive battleaxe and a sword and shield! I wonder if it has any ranged abilities…"

"Ruby, not everyone has to be ranged as well. Just look at Jaune."

"Hey Cecil, what's your next class?"

He turned in surprise to Ren, who had just asked. He didn't expect them to still be friendly. Back home, they would have tried to beat him up the second class was over. After all, he had just golfed their friend into the wall through deception. His weapons and armor had been put away, and never had he felt more open and vulnerable.

"Grimm studies, taught by… Professor Port?"

Ruby leapt for joy, Yang looked interested, Blake looked completely interested, and Weiss looked borderline disgusted.

"We are in the same claaaaaass!

They were so friendly after he had tricked their friend and then bludgeoned her with an axe. It was new and unfamiliar to Cecil. If he ever pulled that with his previous team, they would have put him into the ground, 5 feet under.

"Would you mind showing me the way? My introduction to the school did not come with a tour."

As they neared the lecture hall, the group saw a note on the door.

"Class will be held in the Emerald Forest today. Please bring your weapons and armor, if the situation allows."

They all split up to fetch their armor. The thought of using the relic blade again made Cecil sick - swinging a 200 pound axe tended to do that. Generally, he was able to use momentum to mitigate the weight, but in his last fight, he had swung from a standing position. He had had minimal time to get any sort of momentum, and he wasn't looking to do it again any time soon. He instead opted for the same armor, but picked up his daggers - the twin monarchs. La Foi wasn't combat ready, and he didn't think the class would respond well to Hank. Finally, he picked a few vials from his locker. One was mustard yellow, one was crimson red, and one was a sickening black. Mixing them up would have dire consequences - one gave him energy, one made him stronger, and one was a highly corrosive acid. Having a portable mini-armory was quite useful, and though he couldn't store every weapon in it, it could hold the relic blade and his daggers as well as a few special chemicals. With his gear at his side, he hurried out to the location marked on his map.

He arrived to see Weiss, or as he dubbed her, Ice Queen, engaged in combat with some kind of boar like animal. Its mannerisms and attacks reminded him of a bullfango. It was a simple creature and easily predictable, and it only took Cecil a few moments of watching to find its pattern. Charge, slide into position, charge again. No ranged attacks, no other tricks. The girl in white danced around it as glyphs spun around her before planting her rapier into it. As she finished, the professor overseeing it turned and saw him approaching. Cecil technically wasn't late, but he wasn't very early. He got the vibe that the girl in white who now frowned at him was always early. The rest of the class assembled on the sides. Most of them were the same people in his first class. He saw both team RWBY and team JNPR waiting there.

"An excellent demo, Ms. Schnee. Today, we will be studying boarbatusks. They are pretty standard in terms of grimm, but by no means are they to be taken lightly. Because you all seem rather bored with this concept, I have decided to spice up today's lecture. Each of you, find a partner, no, not your standard partner, and please trade weapons. If you can't find a partner, I will assign you one."

Cecil had to keep himself from bursting out in laughter as the tiny Ruby hefted a greatsword that was easily double her height and weight. Nora's face shined in glee as she picked up Yang's explosive gauntlets, and Jaune was trying to figure out how to fire a cord from Blake's Gambol Shroud. Cecil looked around to find someone when someone he wasn't expecting lightly tapped his shoulder. He turned around to find himself face to face with Ice Queen, who stood there looking very displeased as she offered her rapier to him. He picked it up and handed her the twin monarchs. It hurt to part with them, and he was slightly terrified to see the destructive power of the kirin in the hands of someone untrained with them.

"Be careful with it, I spent a lot of time working on it."

"You be careful too. I had to track down 4 beasts through some frozen mountains to make those. Here's a tip: Hit the small jewel on the pommel when you're ready, but don't do it before you start fighting. And keep your hands away from the horns. They are made for stabbing first, slashing second."

"So is the rapier. It functions as a revolver, and those cartridges are for dust."

"It's very elegant, just like its wielder."

"These are very crude, just like its wielder."

As he was trying to pleasant.

"They're called the Twin Monarchs."

"It's called Myrtenaster."

She really hated him, and he was unsure why. It probably had something to do with the fact that he had swung a 200 pound axe into someone's back. Even though everyone else had appeared to forgive him, Weiss hadn't. It was best to rip off the band-aid and just ask.

"Why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you."

"It's pretty clear you hate me, Ice Queen."

"Don't. Call. Me. Ice. Queen."

"Fine, Your Majesty. But that doesn't explain why you hate me. You hold everyone at a distance, but every time you see me, you look like you've swallowed a lemon."

"This is not the place for this discussion."

"Fine, but I want an explanation later."

"Fine."

Well that didn't help at all.

The professor released a few grimm for the students to fight with their new weapons. Some were better than others - Nora's fist crashed into the boarbatusk and Ren was surprisingly good with Pyrrha's sword and shield, but Yang was struggling with his two guns. Weiss had quickly picked up on using both of her arms, but it was clear her right was stronger than her left. Suddenly, everyone heard a mighty crash and turned to the girl, whose hair now stood on end. The boarbatusk that had just charged her was now a pile of ash on the floor - she had clicked the jewel Cecil had pointed out earlier, and the boarbatusk had disintegrated as she touched it.

"That would be the latent power in those daggers."

"You didn't tell me they would summon a lightning bolt!"

He looked at his fingernails calmly.

"Oh, I didn't? Oops."

She glared at him, but she couldn't deny that swinging around two lightning bolts was a lot of fun. Professor Port spoke up one more time.

"One more challenge for you. An ursa for the one person who I haven't seen try their weapon yet. Mr. Corax, please step forward."

Still rather disinterested, he stepped forward to face the mighty bear that stood before him.

"Oh, you brought in an Arzuros."

"What?"

"Nothing."

He stood there still not focusing as the furious ursine charged him. Suddenly, with lightning speed, he darted under it and stabbed the rapier into it's unprotected belly. As quickly as he had stabbed in, he pulled it out and attacked again. His movements were blindingly fast, and the ursa couldn't even move - it was paralyzed by shock. Before long, the massive beast toppled to the ground, without having even come close to hitting Cecil.

He spun the rapier one more time, examining all the facets on it before handing it back to Weiss and safely hooking his daggers on his waist.

"Well done. Please return your classmates weapons and go to lunch."

They all walked to lunch together.

"Hey, have you decided on a team? We would love to have you."

Yang was excited at the prospect of having someone like him on her team.

"You could join team JNPR though, and Pyrrha could have her chance at revenge"

"I told you all, I'm not mad. It's my own fault for dropping my guard."

"No, I haven't decided on a team yet. I may not join a team at all, but instead I might sub for you all on missions."

They all made small-talk, eating their lunch when an announcement came over the intercom in the voice of Glynda Goodwitch. She was trying to remain calm, but there was a hint of panic in her voice.

"All students, return to your dorms immediately. Team leaders, you are responsible for the safety of your team. No one is to leave their dorm until further notice. Please proceed in a calm, orderly, fashion. You are not in grave danger, but this is very important."

They all looked around before picking up their backpacks and hurrying to their dorms. All of their dorms were close, so they went as a large team. As they got close, they found themselves face to face with Professor Goodwitch. Her face was unreadable, but it was not her normal, disapproving expression. She turned directly to Cecil and said simply

"Grab your best armor and weapon. Ozpin's office in five. You too, Ms. Nikos."

She then briskly walked down the hall to control the chaos that was beginning to erupt. Both team RWBY and team JNPR looked at the two in moderate terror.

"What did you do?!"


	12. A threat in the forest

Ozpin

The two students he had sent for both walked into his office combat ready. Mr. Corax, as he was now known, wore a heavier, more plated version of the armor he wore in his duel. Ms. Nikos carried her standard armor and weaponry, as it was undamaged in the duel against the boy standing next to her. Mr. Corax carried another weapon, a long polearm with a retracting scythe. It was sharp and deadly. One part scythe, one part greatsword, one part club, it was not a weapon to be taken lightly. He had incredibly reach with it, as it was about 7 or 8 ft long. On his arm was some kind of shield for deflection. It was shaped like a large bug, and Ozpin thought his eyes were deceiving him when he saw it shift on it's own. First, he faced Pyrrha.

"I called you here because you are the best, most adaptable warrior Beacon can currently offer. You have proven yourself to be better in combat than many of your upperclassmen when it comes to single combat. And I need your help. This is where you come in, Mr. Corax."

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Another omega grimm has been spotted in the forest, and we need you, Ms. Nikos, Professor Goodwitch, and Mr. Branwen. You four the best I could get on such short notice. Mr. Branwen will be staying farther back unless absolutely necessary due to safety reasons."

"I need you to tell me exactly what properties this has."

"It was spotted in the Emerald Forest by Professor Port after your lecture."

He tossed the only picture Port had managed to take onto the table. Mr. Corax immediately picked it up and studied it with great interest. It was pretty blurry, as Port was vastly outmatched and was running for his life. From the picture, one could make out a huge, lumpy, upper body and two large legs, but that was about it.

"What did it do?"

"Hm?"

The question caught Ozpin off guard.

"What was it doing? What were its behaviors?"

"From Professor Port's report, it was incredibly aggressive. The area he found it in was partially singed."

"Who is left outside?"

His string of questions were direct and businesslike. This was something he was taking very seriously, which was both refreshing and terrifying.

"Some of the teachers are patrolling for remaining students, and a small group of fourth-years are out there scouting out the area. They are under direct orders to avoid the creature, but they might be able to get more information on it as we move in."

At the mention of the students and teachers being out, Cecil's eyes widened in terror.

"Get them out. All of them."

"They are pretty skilled, they should be alright -"

"If you do not get them out of the forest now, they will die. All of them. They cannot possibly be prepared to deal with a deviljho. It will eat them all for breakfast. The team you are sending me with better be damn good and willing to die, because a deviljho is not something to be taken lightly."

The normally uninterested Cecil was now deadly serious. Ozpin immediately sent out a full recall.

"If they get spotted by it, they have to run and pray that it gets tired of running through trees. Avoid open spaces. They can't hide from it, and whatever they do, DO NOT TOUCH IT'S SALIVA."

Ozpin nodded and sent out these additional instructions.

"Ms. Nikos, you are not required to take on this mission. You will be facing an incredibly dangerous grimm. You have never faced something this powerful. Retreating is not failure, it is survival. Mr. Corax, you are also not required to go, but know that having you there will greatly help."

Both students responded, Pyrrha speaking first.

"I will go, Professor. I will be safe above all."

"If I don't go, you are all screwed. I'm goin."

With both of their conformation, their other two partners walked in, in the middle of a heated argument.

"I don't understand why you don't aid us directly."

"Ozpin known why, and it's my choice. I'll jump in if you really need me."

They both turned to face Ozpin and answered the unasked question resting in the air.

"All of the students and teachers have been sent inside, safe and sound. One student may be slightly traumatized, as he saw the omega grimm consume an ursa whole. Not a pretty sight."

Ozpin sighed, but he would deal with it later.

"Mr. Corax, please give us a rundown on what we are up against."

He stepped forward, as if giving a lecture.

"We are going up against a deviljho, if these pictures and accounts are correct. I was initially uncertain, but after the description of it eating a while ursa, I have no doubt that that is what we are dealing with. Deviljhos are big, ugly, and ravenous. They seek to consume anything and everything in their path, including the students inside these walls. It's back is the most heavily armored, so focus on it's feet, belly, and face. If it becomes enraged, you will know. It is faster, stronger, and more aggressive when it's mad. When enraged, focus on its belly, as its mouth is too dangerous. I have traps that I will set up around the forest. If you have any electric dust or weaponry, use it. Killing a deviljho takes hours, be patient. Focus on staying away from its mouth unless you are certain it can't get to you. It lacks range, so don't be afraid to get some distance while someone else draws its aggression. However, you need a lot of distance, as it can spew out a toxic breath if you aren't far enough away. Its most dangerous part is it's weight and mouth. It's saliva is highly corrosive acid, and its jaws can crush a metal ship with ease. Stay near its feet and avoid getting stepped on. It will frequently spin if you are too close to its tail, so get low if you are behind it. Our number one goal here is to stay alive. Support each other, stay either really far away or right under its legs."

His tone was calm and sharp, and it was very clear he had done this before.

"Branwen, I want you on support with this bowgun if you can't get close. Nikos, you and Goodwitch are going to trade agro. One of you dances around and distracts it from the other person and myself attack. I'll handle the legs, and whoever is not drawing its ire is going to go for its throat. Get ready, we leave for the forest in five minutes. Branwen, I'll grab the gun and ammo. It's not in perfect shape, but it should do the trick."

Every step, every word, every movement from Cecil was smooth and prepared. As he strode out of the room with confidence, Ozpin turned to see his fellow teacher's faces resting in pure bewilderment. They all shuffled out to the forest while Ozpin worked to calm and control the situation.

Cecil

A deviljho. Of course. Cecil stepped into his room and picked up his gunners pouch, full of rounds, and La Foi. It was still not shining as bright as he would have liked it, but it wouldn't be a health hazard to carry. Cecil set down and then picked up his signature weapon, the insect glaive known as the Evening Calm. He donned his heavier, but stronger armor made of gore magala parts. Tougher and thicker, he would be able to take far more hits from the deviljho and get some natural resistance to its corrosive saliva. The cape he wore had his full symbol stitched onto the back - six purple eyes forming an oval with a line connecting them all and leading to a diamond. Finally, he picked up his hunting pack which contained plenty of food, water, filters, a bit of tea, flint and steel, potions, and the drugs and syringes he hoped he would never need. With the glaive on his back, Hank on his arm, La Foi in his hand, and his helmet in his other, he stepped into the hallway where he was immediately accosted by both team RWBY and the remnants of team JNPR.

"What is going on?!"

As Jaune shouted directly into his face, Blake chimed up with a hint of worry in her voice.

"Cecil. What is going on? Where is Pyrrha?"

He didn't have time to explain the entire situation, and explaining part of it would only worry them more.

"She is safe. Ozpin needs me to do something, but I can't tell you what it is. I'll tell you all about it when I get back though, ok?"

He tried his best not to let his worry leak through his voice. Deviljhos took a fully coordinated team to even attempt to take one down, and this was not going to be a standard deviljho. The grimm he had fought were tougher, more aggressive, and had little to no idea of self preservation. If it was anywhere as tough as an adult deviljho, Cecil already knew the three going with him would not be prepared. They were used to fights taking a few hours at most. Hunting something like a rajang or deviljho could take days with a full team. It was safer to run a split team, where two would attack while the other two rested. After twelve hours, they would switch. It was slower, but safer. Cecil had the feeling that this thing wouldn't offer them the courtesy.

"Be safe."

Surprisingly, it was Nora who expressed solemn concern.

"If you don't bring Pyrrha back… just bring her back."

Jaune's eyes were worried.

"I will. But I promise, we aren't doing anything dangerous. Just a mini mission Ozpin needs us for."

But as the gods themselves conspired against Cecil, so did the deviljho foil his little white lie.

ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR

It was getting closer. If he didn't deal with it immediately, it really would pose a danger to the school. Everyone stared at him in terror. Never before had they heard something so terrifying. It was a voice of unadulterated destruction, and it was close. Weiss stepped forward.

"Be safe, you dolt. I won't forgive you if you don't come back in one piece."

Unlikely. Nonetheless, he struck an exaggerated bow.

"I will do my best, Ice Queen."

He stepped away from them and towards the exit to the forest. He got there to see the other three already waiting. None of them had packs to carry food, water, or ammunition. This was going to suck.

"You are late, Mr. Corax. As you heard, the 'deviljho' has gotten closer. We must take immediate action."

Glynda was ever impatient with him. Well, two could play that game.

"Listen to me because I will not say this again. If you do not play more defensively than you ever have, you will die. If you touch its saliva, you will die. If it manages to catch you in its mouth, you will die. Our goal is not to kill it, our goal is to survive."

They were grossly unprepared, but he couldn't exactly bring in the Dissidents, so they would have to do. Final order of business that he did manage to remember.

"Take these."

He handed out earplugs to each person there, including Qrow.

"Why do we need these? We won't be able to hear each other."

"If you don't wear them, you won't hear at all. You heard how loud it is."

Qrow started to slide the earplugs into his pocket when Cecil turned and faced him.

"That's how you get tinnitus."

He handed the gun and ammo pouch to Qrow and then took off towards the roars of the deviljho. Although he didn't tell them, the people with him had a 100% chance of dying with a chance of incredible pain.


	13. Day 1

Cecil

As he approached the deviljho, his suspicions were confirmed. It was, as he had classified it, a grimm deviljho. Its black body smoked as it turned towards him, baring its terrible, yellow, and rotted teeth. The beast barely had time to react before Cecil was on it. His game plan was to stick onto its legs like glue. As he launched himself through the air, he began pulling out the glaive, and using his momentum, he landed the first strike by slamming its bladed side into the deviljho's maw. A swift roll got him out of the way of its snapping mouth and he stabbed again at its leg. It was well armored and his blows appeared not to do much other than annoy it, but Cecil knew better. They would ramp up over time. The rest of the group launched themselves into the fight with gusto. Qrow fired away from the back line with the bowgun, but it took him forever to reload because he wasn't used to the weight. Pyrrha hit its nose again and again with her shield and sword, while Glynda threw trees, rocks, and other debris towards it, taking care to avoid her students.

Cecil grimiced when he saw how explosive his teammates were being. They were burning through way too much of their energy with large jumps and constantly using their semblances, except for Qrow. They weren't ready for this fight. With a team as uncoordinated and unpracticed as this, the hunt could take several days. As he was thinking, he switched up his pattern and rolled back. With a quick sprint towards the deviljho, he buried the top of his polearm into the ground and used it as a pole vault to land neatly on top of the deviljho. The chain part of the glaive allowed it to retract to his back, while he steadied himself on top of the now-furious monster. He pulled out his razor sharp carving knife, although it was more like a machete and began to dig into the deviljho's softer skin on the back of it's neck. As it roared in fury, he was glad he had earplugs in. Once the roaring stopped, he could still hear his ears ringing - he was going to have some hearing problems after that one. As he plunged the knife into its throat again, it began to spin and jump and try to throw him off, but years of rodeoing monsters had taught Cecil well, as he hung on for dear life. Once it got tired, he stabbed at it a few more times for good measure before it decided the best way to get him off was to throw itself to the ground.

With that motion, Cecil was launched off of its back, and it toppled to the ground. He sprinted forward, but as he did, he felt a new emotion take hold. Not the calm, calculating feeling he normally had when he fought, nor the fear that came with fighting the unknown. Rather, it was joy that coursed through his veins as he slammed the heavy glaive into the deviljho's throat again and again. Knocking out its nose and throat would be paramount to both his survival, and the survival of his teammates. They were going to die at the rate they were exhausting their energy, that was just a fact. But if he could lead the deviljho away from them, they might have a chance.

The fighting continued for hours. Cecil fell into his routine and deep focus. He was subconsciously aware of his teammates and their struggles, but he simply focused on the lesson his father, Gol, taught him when they were first learning how to fight large monsters.

"You must first find your opponent's pattern by fighting defensively and watching. Once you have done that, you must predict their moves and counter. If you are attacking, only make small moves. Smarter monsters will be able to punish your failures, to keep the chance of failure to an absolute minimum. Just remember this acronym: PDAR. Predict, dodge, attack, repeat. If you do this, you will be successful in all your hunts, but more importantly, you will be safe. Remember there is no shame in living to hunt another day."

While the man who raised him may currently be residing in a grave, his advice to Cecil was incredibly important. Being a hunter was based entirely on those four principal things, and being able to perfectly do those four was enough to prevail in any situation. His father just wasn't perfect enough.

He continued to dance around the deviljho's feet, letting his glaive bite into its fleshy legs. When he had first gotten near its face, he had latched Hank onto its nose. Hank was happily damaging the deviljho's primary way to find its prey. Its eyes were weak and its ears were weaker. With Hank comping and burning away at it, it was less likely to find both the school and his teammates. Glynda and Pyrrha were doing a good job of hitting its neck, making it roar less. Making it roar less was another paramount part of his plan to save them - if they couldn't hear it, they wouldn't be able to foolishly attack it.

The day was growing long. They had been fighting for hours with no break, and both parties were showing signs of it, and while it pained Cecil to keep them fighting, he knew that they had to do as much damage as possible before he went and tried to be a hero. Phase 2 of his plan had to commence.

"Disengage and regroup!"

All four stopped pestering the deviljho, those nose was now bleeding and throat was sore. Both were happy to leave the other alone for a while. As they regrouped, Cecil motioned for them to all take out their earplugs.

"This is the plan. We have to tire the deviljho out, otherwise it will just get healthy again. The way we do that is through constant pressure. If it can't sleep or eat, then it can't get healthy. That is why we are going to split into two teams - team professor and team student. Don't judge, I made them up on the spot. The professors will go after the deviljho right now. When you can no longer safely fight, come back here, to base camp. Pyrrha and I will run out and fetch the other professor, who for a time will have to be alone. That professor will run back, and Pyrrha and I will take over. We generally go in twos to keep each other safe, but you will temporarily have to leave your partner. Please do your best to take up 8 or 9 hours of fighting. Keep your movements small and focus on keeping the deviljho hungry and awake. Both of those will make it angry, but it will gradually weaken and we should be able to kill it. Pyrrha and I will set up a base camp here, and when you get back, you may sleep, eat, and so on. Now go stop that thing. Tracking it shouldn't be that hard, it couldn't have gotten far."

His tone was businesslike, and his plan was efficient. They would go until both teachers, Pyrrha, and the deviljho were sufficiently weakened. Then he would lead the beast away and take it on one on one. If he didn't they would push themselves too hard. However, he had to be in top shape if he was going to take on a deviljho alone, even a weakened one.

"Go find it. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. And do not overwork yourselves. The longer you go now, the longer your break will be."

The two professors looked at each other. He was knowledgeable about these things, and by their physical looks, none of them had done an endurance fight like this before. They sighed, nodded, and raced off.


	14. Cold nights

Cecil

Cecil immediately began setting up base camp. He began pulling supplies out of his backpack when he turned to Pyrrha and saw her looking around, uncertain of what to do.

"You could go get firewood. We need every kind right now, it's going to be a cold night."

She smiled and ran off into the forest while Cecil began to set up tents. He figued they would be unprepared, but not this unprepared. He pulled out 4 tents and 4 sleeping bags and began setting them up before sorting through his cookware. He had brought enough food to sustain the entire group for maybe two days, or one person for a week or so, and water wouldn't be a problem. He had deliberately set them up by a river, where he could filter plenty of water.

Pyrrha returned with the firewood and began setting up a teepee with the wood. Without a word, Cecil tossed some flint near her. Still in complete silence, she lit the fire and he felt the warmth wash over him, comforting him on the cold night. He put the stew he had brought over the fire and sat down next to Pyrrha. Neither of them said a word. In a place like the forest, sometimes people didn't have to.

A sense of dread and fear hung over them - for Pyrrha, the fear of this unknown monster and what it entailed for her world. If something this strong could exist so close to Beacon, she dreaded what was happening in the rest of the world. For Cecil, he feared what he was getting himself into. He was honestly going to try and take on the equivalent of a hyper deviljho on by himself. However, with all the fear that threatened to devour them, both could look up and admire the stars, which shone brightly over him. For Cecil, the stars were the core of his mythos - back home, he would lay on the roof of the blackwagon and point out all the constellations of the great titans, the monsters that had once ravished the world that had been sealed in the sky by the scribes. He could tell the stories of Soliam Murr, the demon king.

"The stars are beautiful tonight."

"Almost reminds me that we aren't all probably going to die soon."

"Don't say that. We have you leading us, and with that, nothing could go wrong."

"You place a great amount of faith in me. More than I deserve."

Cecil stood up and walked over to the fire, picking up two bowls of hot soup and handing one to Pyrrha.

"Where are you from, Cecil?"

"A land far, far, away. We have our own food, our own customs, even our own stories. These stars remind me of them."

"Would it help to tell them?"

"I supposed it couldn't hurt."

As they waited for their soup to cool, he began to tell the stories his father had told him. Not everyone believed the scribes even existed, but Cecil knew better, for the proof of their existence was written in the stars.

"It all started with a man called Soliam Murr. He was the emperor of a long forgotten kingdom, but it was incredibly powerful. He was not a cruel leader, but he was apathetic, which some saw as worse. He was never happy with his possessions. Not the land, not the gold, not the people. But when his greatest advisor, Khaylmer Rope-Caller told him of a majestic treasure, known as the Celestial Orb, Murr could not resist. He abandoned his empire and people and began his mad search. He believed if he could just grasp the orb, he may finally be happy. Instead, the river he traveled almost claimed his life. It sent him far downriver, and left him on the brink of death. In this time of great trial, he was marked as one of the legendary demons. Horns sprouted from his head, and he was starving, sick, and tired of everything. Tired of his foolish search, tired of being hurt, and tired of realized what a terrible person he was. He was destined to die that day, and his country celebrated in it. But death would not have him yet.

In his absence, the Rope-Caller seized power. He feared his former master was still alive and sent the Master General to find and kill him. His name was Gol Golathanian, and he traveled to the place where the wretched man lay. Murr was starved, bloody, and had painful horns protruding from his head. Rather than kill the shell of a man he had called 'king', Gol took pity on him and nursed him back to health along with an imp, known as Ha'ub."

As his stew was finally cold enough to eat, he began to eat.

"What a fantastic story. I will have to tell you the stories of this land sometime. I have never heard of these beings."

"Shall I continue?"

"Please do."

Staring at the stars and tracing the constellations brought him back to the next part of the tale.

"Twelve monstrous beings called The Greater Titans roamed the world, chief among them was Yslach, the Astral-Born. Even know, I shall only invoke his name once for fear of a reawakening. Twelve beings destroyed the beautiful world, but as Murr grew strong, he roused up a team to defeat him. Not eight powerful soldiers, nor eight mighty wizards. Instead, he forged a team of eight scribes, one to face a titan alone and aid the others with the rest. The dog scribe, Jomuer crushed the Hive Titan, Bialanthius under beetle dung. From him flowed a fresh, rejuvenating spring. The serpent titan, Lord Gandroth was slain by the Master General who saved Soliam Murr. Unfazed by the serpent's myriad of attacks, he bravely faced it. He effortlessly faced its lashing tail, which could hurl rocks the shape of swords and three times as sharp. Gol Golathanian stood tall and brandished his shield, and sent Gandroth's fury back into his monstrous countenance!"

Cecil's eyes sparkled as he told the stories of his home to a quietly listening Pyrrha

"The Unfathomed Plurnes is another favorite of mine. The Scribe of the Sea, Underking Ores, was the one who felled the mighty beast. Plurnes presented a terrible threat to anyone who dared sail the seas, but Ores was not one to be deterred. He sailed the doomed ship, Dazraban, with its sharpened prow, straight through her heart! Her spawn are said to lie deep within the Sea of Solis, and in their fury, they caused a phenomenon at home known as the Deathless Tempest. I could go on and on about the heroics of the Scribes and the terrible actions of the Titans, but for now, we must rest and prepare for the battle tomorrow."

Cecil continued to stare at the stars, but he could not seem to pick out any of the constellations where the Scribes had sealed away the Titans. Where was he?

"My friend, Tariq, could play the lute better than anyone. Because our history is told orally, he taught me songs of the Scribes. Maybe one day I shall play them for you."

Pyrrha turned to face him after listening to his enchanting stories.

"Thank you for your stories, for dinner, and for everything. We have really asked a lot of someone who we had never met before a week ago. One day, I should tell you the many stories of Remnant. I do love our fairy-tales."

He paused for a second.

"What is Remnant?"

Immediately he realized it was a foolish question.

"It's the world we live in today. What did you call the world?"

…

"The Downside."

The teachers were still out fighting the Deviljho. He hoped they would be safe, but do enough damage that his next task would be easier.

"I suppose we better turn in until one of the teachers comes back."

"I suppose so."

As they entered their respective tents, Cecil muttered a quiet apology to Pyrrha, the teachers, and the people who called him "friend" for his upcoming recklessness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 is next and it is both the longest and my favorite so far! Get hype for friday!


	15. One v one

Cecil

Cecil slept for as long as he could, but he rarely could sleep on hunts. In this specific hunt, there were so many variables that could go wrong. If anyone was injured before he returned, if Pyrrha woke up and realized what he was doing, if he failed to face the deviljho, everything would be lost. He watched and waited for one of the teachers to come back. From there, he would tell them to let Pyrrha sleep, as she was sick, though she wasn't. From there, he would run back and sent the other teacher back, and then he would lead the deviljho away. He would do his best to lure it deeper into the forest, where they would be unable to find it, and from there, he would slay it.

He packed up his bag - all of the remaining food, which could sustain him for 4 days or so, his tent, his sleeping bag, and his water filters. They were not too deep into the forest, so the others would be able to get back to the school without extra gear. Finally, he pulled out his secret bag and placed it inside. It contained several things he hoped he would never need. Several phials of dash juice, demondrug, armor skin, aqueous lifepowder, and potions rested inside. When he needed them, he could attach them to his syringe and many needles. It would give him a temporary boost, which could be and had proven to be the tipping point in battles, but it came at a cost. Excessive use of them forced his body into a heightened state, but it would all come crashing down. The potions didn't heal him as much as they held him together.

Slipping his terrible concoctions into his bag, he waited, and waited, and waited. Either the teachers were holding their own, or they were both dead. He had instructed them earlier to injure the deviljho's throat so it would not roar much. If it roared, he could lead it away and continue his onslaught. They were not good enough trackers to consistently find him, and they would tire soon enough if they did.

He climbed a tree to watch and listen for their approach, but none came. Under the light of the moon and stars, he closed his eyes and began to sing a song Tariq had taught him. While it typically was accompanied by a lute, he had nothing available, so his pure voice rang out over the forest alone.

"From the plains that sleep below

To the canyons open wide

Hear a song of gentle mourning

For the lost and lonesome bride.

On the hill and in the valley

Where the weeping flowers hide

From the song of gentle mourning

For the lost and lonesome bride

Now he roams through hill and valley

And the canyons open wide

Singing songs of gentle mourning

For his lost and lonesome bride

For his lost and lonesome bride."

He lost track of time as he sang to the stars, singing choruses that Tariq had taught him and ones of his own creation. Finally, he heard a rustling below him.

"Go kill that thing, kid. And did you bring any alcohol?"

An exhausted Qrow stumbled into base camp, ragged and panting, with red lightning crackling around him, signalling that his aura was dangerously low. The sword on his back was covered in blackened blood - evidently he had gone in for melee at some point. The most surprising thing however, was the fact that Cecil did not hear him approach. His senses were generally good enough that he should have been able to detect Qrow coming back, but he had sensed nothing but the rustle of some restless birds.

"I have no alcohol. Pyrrha has fallen sick, so I ask you not to wake her - she will join me when she can. There is stew on the fire and open tents."

"And where is yours?"

He hadn't expected Qrow to see that he had packed up his tent already.

"I don't like sleeping in tents. I prefer nothing but the stars over my head."

Qrow shrugged and silently stumbled over to the fire, helping himself to some stew. He was too tired to press Cecil for answers, and Cecil wasn't going to give him any. He had tagged the deviljho with a digital tracker, and Cecil could clearly see it on his map. That was a problem he was going to have to deal with.

He sprinted off towards the deviljho. It had run a good distance away, but the digital tracker pointed him in the right direction. Qrow must have attached it to one of the shots he fired with La Foi, which rested in Qrow's tent. Cecil would have to dig it out to throw them off the trail. He knew they wouldn't' be able to find it without the tracker, whereas Cecil could find it by tracing corroded soil and paint.

The silence of the forest was oppressive as Cecil raced towards the blip on his scroll. There was no sound other than the crunch of leaves under his feet as he ran. Hunters were trained to be marathoners in both fighting and running, and he was confident he could reach it without expending much of his energy reserves. The stew in his stomach was keeping him warm in the crisp, forest night. The backpack thumped gently against his back and his armor felt weightless as he soared through the forest, with only the moon lighting his way. Finally, he was close. He could hear the sounds of combat ahead. Goodwitch had been holding her own against the deviljho for the hour or so it took Cecil to reach her and however long it took Qrow to get back. She would be too exhausted to ask where Pyrrha was. When he silently appeared beside her, he sent a secretly grateful Goodwitch back to the camp. Now the real battle could begin.

First thing's first, he had to get rid of that tracker. By zooming in on his map and watching the movements, he could tell it was embedded somewhere in the tail. He had put a sizable amount of damage into the tail, and Goodwitch and Qrow had done a number on its throat - perfect for keeping it hidden. But he had to get the tracker away before Pyrrha woke up and realized something was up. The armor surrounding its tail was beginning to chip, but the tail of a normal deviljho was straight muscle, making it difficult to sever. He had begun to run after only 5 hours or so, and if Pyrrha slept a typical 8, he would have a meager 3 hours to sever its tail before they came running for him. Extending his right hand outwards, he shaped it as though he was holding the sacred book of his homeland before closing his eyes and muttering a prayer.

"May the stars and scribes therein keep watch over this pilgrim tonight as he strives to represent the courage and selflessness of his patron, Ha'ub the Swallow."

Having finished his plea, Cecil silently threw himself into the fight. Sending Hank towards the deviljho's throat, he began his assault anew. Using the momentum of his sprint, he slammed the sharpened edge of the Evening Calm into a cracked section of the beast's tail. It attempted to roar in pain, but no sound came out as he ducked under its tail and swung again. The battle raged on as he ducked and dove, keeping his movements sure and the distance closed. Hank gnawed away at its throat before switching to its nose. Black blood began to leak from the beast, but it was nowhere near finished. Judging time only by the position of the moon, Cecil had maybe half an hour before Pyrrha awoke if she hadn't already. His arts were charged enough as he leaped back and focused, drawing a massive cloud of insects to surround him. As he rushed back towards the deviljho, the insects followed, forming a protective ball that orbited him. He had weakened the tail to the point where one, very heavy blow could be enough to lop it off. He signaled Hank towards the beast's eyes. As the kinsect bit deeply into one, it screamed in pain and toppled over. This was Cecil's one chance to swing. If he messed it up, his entire plan would be forfeit.

He dug the glaive into the ground, launched high into the air, and raised the glaive over his head. He extended the scythe section, and focused and channeled all the insects protecting him into it. With one, crushing, blow, he forced both all of his energy and the energy of all the surrounding insects into the deviljho's weakened tail. The scythe cleaved straight through it and the tail fell to the ground with a THUMP. Black blood leaked from both the tail and the now-furious deviljho as it kicked its powerful back leg into the unsuspecting hunter. Landing in the ground a short ways away, Cecil could tell it had taken a sizable chunk of health away from him. He may have separated the tracker from the beast, ensuring that the others would not be able to find him, but he had yet to conquer the more insurmountable task before him - he had to actually kill a grimm deviljho alone.


	16. A test of endurance

Cecil

The problem with facing a monster like a deviljho alone was that he couldn't get any breaks. Despite the pain in his body from the blows he had received, Cecil lured the deviljho deeper and deeper into the forest as morning began to break. The deviljho was multiple times large than any hunter, and Cecil was neither tall nor heavy. All of his offensive and defensive capability came from his footwork and ability to precisely shift his center of gravity. Their battle continued, with Cecil swinging at its legs when it was up and head when it had fallen down. He tagged it with a paintball on its foot - it would leave behind vague marks when it tried to run away, ensuring Cecil could find it with ease. However, both parties were getting tired and hungry, and Cecil no longer had a team he could rely on. He was still under a time constraint too - his food would only last four days, and he certainly couldn't stay awake that long. Fighting long past noon, both the deviljho and Cecil were immensely tired and hungry. They almost signed a truce when they both separated to seek food and sleep. When he had done solo hunts before, Cecil had relied on a schedule of power-naps. When he was sure he was safe, he wolfed down an energy bar and got into a tree, away from other beasts. He set an alarm and slept for twenty minutes before waking up feeling significantly better. He sprinted back to the sleeping deviljho and quietly began to rig a trap. An electric shock trap would be a rude awakening for a deviljho and it would allow him to get a significant portion of damage in. There was no doubt the others had realized his deception, but he had gotten too far away from the tracker for them to be able to find him.

Having finished setting up his trap, he leaped high into the air and let the sharpened side of his glaive slam into the deviljho's head. It woke up with a start, leapt to its feet, and was immediately greeted with several thousand volts being delivered through its foot via channeled thunderbugs. This gave Cecil the opportunity he needed to hit its head repeatedly. Hank had charged him earlier, so his damage output was higher and faster, and we felt invigorated from his nap. However, the deviljho snapped out of the electricity sooner than expected and snapped at Cecil, who narrowly avoided its corrosive jaws. However, in exchange for the dodge, he rolled straight into its swinging tail, or what was left of it, knocking him to the ground. He threw the glaive and lodged it into a nearby tree before activating the new grapple mechanism he had installed earlier. It pulled him to the tree and bought him a few precious seconds while the deviljho was still reeling. He reached into his bag and pulled out a green canister, and placed it into a syringe. Using the piece of cloth in the bag, he tightened it on his upper arm before stabbing the syringe into the soft spot in his armor on his forearm. Injecting the potion, which was comprised primarily of herbs and honey, was not good for his body. However, it allowed the potion to get directly into his bloodstream, allowing for more immediate effects. The electric trap had evidently hurt the deviljho more than he had anticipated, and so he had a few more seconds. He hurriedly grabbed three more canisters: yellow, red, and orange and injected them as well. He knew this was going to destroy the inner workings of his body, but he had no other choice. With each sting of the needle, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"This stuff is going to wreak havoc on my heart, but I'll burn that bridge when I get to it"

The green liquid stitched his bones and skin back together underneath his armor. The golden mega dash juice upped his adrenaline levels and eliminated any feeling of fatigue - it acted as a much more immediate and volatile form of caffeine. The orange armor skin nulled his pain response. He would still take damage if he was hit, but he wouldn't feel it until later. The most dangerous of the bunch however, was the red mega demondrug. It was made of a might seed, a rare seed that increased energy flow for a short time. However, when combined with a catalyst and extract from a khezu, its effects were amplified. It imbued him with demonic strength, and was said to be the creation of the first demon, Soliam Murr. However, the combination of the drugs amplified his aggression and damaged his insides if he took too many at once. Demondrug, when combined with other chemicals, could be used as a hallucinogen - Cecil had seen so many good hunters fall victim to its addictive qualities.

As the drugs began coursing through their system, Cecil threw himself at the deviljho. Combining the drugs with the extract that Hank had pulled from it, Cecil became a monster-slaying machine. He was doing far more damage than before, even with four people swinging at it, but he was also taking more hits. However, every time he was hit, he either ignored it or dragged his body back together with potions.

Eventually, the drugs began to wear off as the deviljho ran away. He let it run, ate what he could, napped, and then chased it down again, putting more and more drugs into his system. As the deviljho grew more and more agitated, they became more and more necessary. Sometimes, he let it sleep for a little longer and instead rigged up trapped meat. When it ran off, it ran to the meat, ate it, and got weaker and sicker.

As the days passed, it grew cloudy, and it began to pour rain day and night. He sought shelter under trees, but he was soaked to the bone and freezing as he hunted. He was positive he would lose some fingers and toes if he stayed out for much longer, and he couldn't start a fire because all of the wood was soaked. His destructive pattern continued for days against the deviljho. The only thing he had to warm his insides was drugs, and they were destroying him from the inside-out. At one point, the deviljho ran away again. His bouts against it were shorter than normal hunts, but that was because he was running on power naps. For the same amount of time, the naps had less of an effect on the deviljho as they did on Cecil, and the beast didn't have access to the various drugs Cecil was using. As the days wore on, he stopped thinking clearly. His mind was focused around one word. Not focus, not survive, but "kill". When he stopped to think about it, it terrified him, but he was too tired not to. The drugs were taking their toll, and he was out of food, meaning he had gone at least 5 more days since he had left his teammates. The deviljho, just like Cecil, was on its last legs - Cecil could feel it in his bones. The fight against it with his teammates would have stretched the same amount of time, if not longer. They just didn't have the same capability for damage or endurance as a drugged up Cecil. As the deviljho ran away again, he mulled over the fact that the teachers and Pyrrha would either be furious at his trickery or crying over his probable death.

"No one would weep for you."

"Who's there?!"

Cecil looked around frantically, terrified that he had been found before he wanted to be. The voice that snarled at him was higher pitched than his own, with a sinister lilt to it.

Silence.

"I said who's there?!"

No reply.

The forest around him was quiet, and even in his addled state, he would have been able to detect someone.

"The drugs must be getting to me. I have to finish this"

He was mumbling to no one. "The rain and drugs must be getting to me", he thought. He ran after the deviljho again. He was out of armor skin and potions. Two less drugs to destroy himself with. As he encountered the deviljho again, something deep inside told him this would be their last meeting. The pouring rain and crackling thunder added to the dramatic mood as he set himself. Hank was too tired to fly at the beast, and the rain wasn't good for the fiery kinsect. Cecil was entirely alone again, with no company except the beast that stood before him.

The deviljho was seething with fury, but it was too injured to act much. Black blood poured from the many wounds caused by Cecil in the past several days. Its stub of a tail still oozed, as did the cuts that adorned its legs, throat, face, and back. Numerous stab wounds decorated it like a Christmas tree.

Cecil wasn't in much better shape though. Completely out of potion, his body was at its limit. There were only so many times one could be ripped apart and sewn back together before they fell apart entirely. His armor was dented and chipped, and certain parts had been so badly demolished that he put them in his pack. Where his skin showed, it was ripped up and bleeding.

The two combatants faced each other one final time. Cecil hefted his glaive while the deviljho stomped its foot. At the clap of thunder, they threw themselves at each other for one last time. Cecil got some hits in, staying right up against it, using its large body against itself. However, he was much slower than when he had started. His body was wracked with pain from the many drugs he had injected, and he hadn't slept more than a few hours in the past week, nor had he eaten anything more than an energy bar in the past two days. His slowness proved to be his fatal flaw as he was unable to react in time to a vicious kick backwards from the deviljho. He slammed into a nearby boulder and fell flat onto his face, bleeding and broken. His helmet had flown off, and his glaive lay uselessly at his side. Hank refused to make any move to help him. He was completely and utterly alone. Even the deviljho was too tired to try to kill him. It collapsed to its side, bleeding almost as much as Cecil was.

"So this is where I will die."

It was not a question he asked himself, it was a statement.

"Alone, in the rain, having lied to my friends, taken way too many drugs, and attempted an unwinnable fight."

As the weight of his reality began to press in, tears began to stream from his eyes as he cried to the absent sky above and the cold, hard ground below him.

"I don't wanna die!"

Bitter tears fell from his face onto the already-soaked ground as he cried for his father, for his friends, for his dog, and for his scribes.

"Where are you when I need you?! Why have you left me?!"

Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps it was karma for leaving the people who trusted him. Perhaps it was for letting the man who had cared for him die. Perhaps it was for stealing the last piece of bread from Roman at dinner. Perhaps it was just fate.

"Get up."

"What?"

"Get up. I am not here to watch you sob on the ground like a pathetic child. If you want to stay on the ground and die like an animal, then do it."

He could feel warmth running through his veins as he planted his hands on the ground and began to lift.

"Fuck you, I do what I want."

Fire filled him as he put one leg, then the other under him.

"About damn time."

The voice didn't speak to him again, but he picked up his glaive one last time and began to haul himself over to the sleeping beast. One final blow is all it would take. Using the polearm as a cane, he leaned on it and slowly dragged himself towards the deviljho. In the pouring rain, with blood streaming from numerous wounds, he focused his ever-fading vision on the monster in front of him. Finally, he was up close, and he could see the cracks in its armor. One blow is all it would take. He picked up the glaive, approached its neck, and shoved the blade deep into its throat. It woke with surprise, but no sound could come out as he pushed the sharpened weapon deeper. The terrifying monster that he had spent so much fighting died silently, alone, and in the pouring rain. As it disintegrated, he picked up his map and looked at his location, which he had meticulously marked. It had been a week since they set out, and it was early in the morning, so early it was still dark out. That meant his classmates may be outside for their grimm studies class by the time he got back.

Shortening the glaive into a more cane-like form, he began stumbling towards Beacon Academy. Every step was agony as he planted one foot in front of the other. The drugs had completely worn off by now, but Cecil knew if he fell asleep, he could slip into a coma and never wake up again. He just had to get back to Beacon, one step at a time. One step at a time.

He didn't know how many hours had passed. The rain completely blocked out the sun, and he had left his scroll back by the tracker, favoring his paper map. Just in case they tried to track him with it. One step, and then the other. Over hills, through bushes and thorns, Cecil trudged back. He had done his best to bandage his worse wounds, but his head injury was not boding well for his health, especially with the added effect of his earlier concussion against the zinogre and the effects of the drugs he took. Day had begun to break, and the class was pretty early in the morning. He had to be close. Finally, he broke through a clearing, and found himself face to face with all of his classmates.

He doubted he looked good. He was caked in blood, both his and the deviljho's. His face was covered in blood, sweat, and filth, with clear lines marking tears and rain. His armor was dented, torn, and scratched to pieces. His glaive was blackened and still slightly smoking. He was limping, and he was being held together by the threads of his armor. His own blood leaked out from underneath the seams, and it was pretty clear his knee was not suppose to turn that way.

Both groups stood in complete silence, their training long forgotten.

"Hey."

And he collapsed into darkness.


	17. Injured

Ozpin

A very displeased Ozpin stood in front of four people, and three of them were his staff, and the last was an innocent child.

"Recap. Everything.", he said with deep breaths

Qrow spoke first.

"We went out on the hunt with this kid against the monster we had never seen before. He told us to go for its throat while he weakened its legs and tail. I shot it with a tracker so we could find it. At sunset, we split into two teams - Goodwitch and I, and the kid and Nikos. He and Nikos set up a base camp maybe an hour from the school while Goodwitch and I chased down the monster."

"Deviljho."

"Yeah, the deviljho. Anyway, we continued to fight this thing, as he emphasized keeping it awake above all. When Goodwitch and I couldn't go on any longer, I ran back to camp to get the two."

"Ms. Nikos, I would like to hear your side."

"Cecil and I were a team. We set up base camp, cooked dinner, and he told the myths of his home, but for him, they were real."

Qrow and Ozpin shared an uncomfortable glance.

"Anyway, the stories were fascinating, but they were similar to fairy tales. They made us calm down and go to sleep. Next thing I know, I wake up in the morning to Mr. Branwen and Professor Goodwitch, but no Cecil. We were supposed to go as a team when someone of the other team came back, but from what I gather-"

"The kid lied to my face so he could run off and play hero. By the time we figured out what was up, he had severed its tail and left his scroll before luring it deep into the forest."

Ozpin spoke up again

"And what of its roaring? It was quite loud, how did you not track it from that?"

"We think that's the reason he had us target its throat. By wounding its throat, it was less likely to roar and thus, easier for him to hide it from us."

He was good. He was very good, but he was also incredibly stupid.

"So, in conclusion, he told you all to wound its throat, and then tricked you all into letting him fight it alone. A week later, he shows up half dead at a student lecture."

All three of the people whom he had trusted stared at the ground before muttering their consensus.

"Yes."

They couldn't have seen it coming. He was a cunning kid, but Ozpin certainly didn't expect him to play the hero. He was pessimistic going into it, but to push his body to such extremes was quite surprising.

"You three are dismissed. I need to talk to Professor Port."

All three walked out of the office and returned to their duties.

"Professor, I would like to hear your account as well."

He nodded and began telling what happened.

"I was initially concerned when the new student suddenly stopped showing up to my classes after the alarm. However, as you assured me he was fine, I went back to teaching. One week later, I decided to have another lecture outside for my grimm studies class. The class has primarily first and second year students, and they get experience with grimm in a controlled environment. It was pouring rain, and I thought it would be good for the students to hone their skills in bad weather. Imagine my surprise when, just as class is about to start, a figure bursts into the clearing, shrouded in darkness, covered in blood, and carrying a terrifyingly large weapon on his back. I was about to have a heart attack when it mumbled something in a very human voice and then fell over. I immediately recognized my former student who had disappeared for a week and was now lying face-down on the ground. I called the medics, and they carried him off to the medbay, and I haven't seen him since.

"Thank you, Professor. I ordered the medics not to let anyone else see him. Please return to your class, but do not mention more than you must about him. These children are still too young to watch one of their friends die already."

As the professor strode out of his room, Ozpin collapsed back into his desk and put his head in his hands. What madman had he brought into his school? He had asked the gods for help, and they sent him a teenage boy. This teenage boy proceeded to easily slay one of the new grimm, best one of his top students in single combat, and then ran off into the forest for a whole week and killed another omega grimm.

Ozpin stood up and briskly walked to the medbay. The last update he had heard from them was that the boy was in a coma and unresponsive, but alive. He strolled down the halls, his heels clicking against the floor. When he reached the medbay, eight other children stood in front of him at the desk. The doctor there was getting more and more agitated.

"Listen kids, I told you I can't let you see him. He is in critical condition, and we don't want to introduce too many foreign things too quickly."

Both team RWBY and team JNPR were looking increasingly displeased.

"But he's our friend!"

"Ruby, you did only know him for two days."

"He got in a fistfight with Cardin though."

Pyrrha, who had previously remained silent, finally spoke up.

"I just want to know if he is safe. I was with him for the beginning of that mission after all, and it is a miracle he made it out alive. If he isn't going to wake up, I would at least like to see him again."

The doctor was having a difficult internal battle, and Ozpin decided to step in.

"If it is alright, could you let them in after me?"

The doctor snapped to attention and nodded with a jerk before opening the door behind her, her dog ears folding back submissively.

"Of course, Headmaster Ozpin! I-I didn't see you there! He is in room 2187 - the second floor, first on the right side."

The teams silently followed behind him, and when he arrived at the door, he smiled warmly at them before saying

"Please wait here. If I think it is ok for you to see him and the doctor agrees, then a few of you can go in at a time if you care to."

They all nodded and sat down as Ozpin stepped into the room.

The room had a beautiful view of the nearby port. A single doctor in the room hurried out to give Ozpin a minute with the boy who lay in the single bed.

He had an IV hooked up to his left arm, and numerous medical instruments monitoring his other vitals. He was dressed only in shorts, as it gave the doctors easy access to his many wounds. A majority of his chest and arms were wrapped in bandages, which appeared to have just been changed, as they weren't completely bloodstained. His left leg was lifted up and in a cast - evidently, he had broken it sometime in the past week. His right shoulder was in some kind of sling, and an oxygen mask rest across his face, allowing him to breathe. Although he could not see it, the report included the fact that most of his right leg lacked skin - it had been burned off by a highly corrosive acid. His feet suffered from bruising and a few broken toes that he had most likely received while running through the forest. Though his expression was not in pain, his face was pale from blood loss, and his body was gaunt. According to the report the doctor handed him, he hadn't eaten well in over a week, and he likely would have cognitive issues from multiple concussions and lack of sleep. They fed him through a tube several times a day, and his breathing mask functioned as artificial lungs.

As Ozpin read the report, he saw the damage done to him wasn't just on his skin, it was also inside. The doctors had found trace amounts of various substances in him. While they couldn't identify what they were for, it was clear they had pushed his body to its limits. While he already had fractured both his tibia and fibula in his left leg and dislocated his right shoulder twice, his immune system also had almost completely shut down from the intake of medicines. When Cecil arrived to them, he had several cracked ribs. Upon further investigation, the doctors discovered he had actually broken far more than what he initially had, but they looked like they had been forcibly fused together. It wasn't perfect, but it had served as a temporary remedy to his injures. His left hand showed signs of having circulation cut off and deep imprints of a chain, similar to the chain that connected some kind of reeling mechanism on his glaive. He also had a bruised collar bone and was covered in lacerations, both light and heavy. His back was damaged from being in such heavy armor for a long time.

Said armor stood on a nearby armor stand. When they had first removed it, the doctors set it aside. Now that there wasn't as much immediate care needed, they had cleaned it and taken out the dents so it didn't permeate the air in the room with blood. They had also done their best to clean the massive glaive that rested in the corner. Traces of black blood still marked the weapon, but they used plenty of air freshener to make up for it.

His immune system was slowly fixing itself, but he would be unable to use aura to fix his body due to the sheer amount of damage he had taken and the stress he had placed on his body and aura. It would be several weeks before he was evens suppose to walk again, much less fight. Thankfully, his spine injuries were minimal, so the doctors expected him to make a full recovery. He would need a few days or weeks in a wheelchair before he would be mobile again, and he would need an extensive recovery period before he picked up anything remotely heavy like his weapons.

Ozpin nodded his head at the report. It made no mention of what had caused his injuries, and while their descriptions were graphic, bandages covered the worst of it. In fact, bandages covered pretty much all of him, wrapping around his chest, arms, left hand, and all of his right leg. He set the report down on the table and walked out to the anxious students.

"He will be fine. If you really want to see him, you can send a few people in. Please don't overcrowd his room, or touch him or the medical equipment in there. Maybe four or five, and I have to be in there with you."

The looked at each other and began bickering before agreeing to send in Pyrrha, Ruby, and Weiss.

"Students, I have to warn you that he isn't in good shape. You only have maybe 5 minutes before the doctor kicks us out, so just tell your friends on your way out, ok?"

They all solemnly nodded as he opened the door.

Weiss

Weiss stepped in first and immediately noticed the artificial smell that attempted and failed to mask the true smell of the room - blood and death. The boy she had met yesterday, who both infuriated and impressed her, lay pale as a ghost on the bed near the window, his eyes closed peacefully. His head and rest of body were wrapped in bandages, and she immediately realized with some embarrassment that he was not wearing much in the way of clothing. His armor and weapon rested near the other wall. While the other two ran over to look at him as Professor Ozpin sat silently watching in the corner, Weiss picked up the doctor's report, and what she saw shocked her.

His injuries were extensive and terrible. Apparently, no one had seen him in between the time when the alarm went off and when he unceremoniously stumbled into their class lecture. As she read down the list of injuries, she could see why he was wrapped in bandages like some sort of mummy. She couldn't let Ruby see this list - she was too young to read something as terrible as this list. Whatever he had gone through, it had hurt him tremendously, and she was not ready to see the hardship the world had to offer. Weiss silently handed the list to Pyrrha and walked over to the sleeping boy, her heels gently clicking against the tile of the floor. He was still handsome as ever, even when he was covered in bandages. Most of his hair had been carefully washed and brushed to the side, and part of the right side had been shaved off and bandaged up. He never would have styled his hair like that. For all his barbaracy, he did know how to look good.

Wait, what was she thinking? He was a savage, and one who ran off into the forest and almost got himself killed even when she told him to be safe. Making sure Ruby did not see the extensive list of graphic injuries, she stepped out with Ruby and Ozpin, before watching Pyrrha whisper something to him and walk out with them. The headmaster of the school turned to address all of the students in the hallway.

"Students, I know this is a tragic injury so early in your meeting of Cecil Corax, but I invite you not to lose hope. He is well on his way to recovery. In the meantime, I would like you to focus on your studies and sending him your well wishes. When he wakes up, I'm sure he will appreciate it."

Each student wandered back to their dorm. Most of team JNPR was silent as was Blake. Weiss couldn't stop thinking about how hurt he was. What was he doing? The alarm had sounded, a terrifying roar had been heard, he disappeared for several days, and the roaring stopped. The most logical conclusion was he had gone and taken down whatever monster had been threatening a school he didn't even go to. Pyrrha and Ozpin refused to tell them what had happened, so all Weiss could do was hope for his recovery so she could interrogate him herself.

"- and then we can bring him a big batch of cookies!"

Ruby had already begun to make plans for his reawakening. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind that he might not wake up. Weiss knew the chances of someone waking up with injuries like that were not good. She had seen reports of injured people in the dust mines. They didn't wake up either.


	18. Another voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am out of town with little access to internet, so sorry, but there will be no update on Monday or Wednesday. In the mean time, enjoy this funnier chapter!

Cecil

Everything was dark, until he opened his eyes.

"That's how eyes work, dumbass"

The voice was back too. Lovely.

"Damn right I'm back. You've been suppressing me for seventeen years. About time I get to talk to you"

And it could read thoughts

"I have no idea how you have survived this long."

Touche.

When Cecil tried to look around, he saw nothing but white space. His eyes couldn't focus on anything.

"Give him a break, Loukios."

A deeper, handsome voice spoke next.

"Not my fault he's a dumbass."

The landscape around him dulled to a mute gray, a gray that reminded him of home. Finally, two shapes started to materialize in front of him. One was made of shifting shadows, black as night. The other was made of a blindingly bright light. Sky blue eyes from the shining figure stared at him with compassion, while the black shape's furious red eyes cut to Cecil's soul.

"Did you know your name means 'blind', Cecil? Completely appropriate, considering your idiocy."

"And your name has nothing to do with you, Loukios. Morningstar. Shining one. You are simply a being of cunning and anger."

The two shapes began to solidify in front of him, each taking the form of a person. The blackened one was shorter and its voice was malicious, but high pitched. The taller, bright one's voice was deep and soothing, like his own.

"Who you callin' high pitched?!"

And thin skinned.

The smaller one was doing everything in its power not to throw itself at him.

"I told you I don't want to be called Loukios anymore, Aaryavir. Its Lucius."

"Then you must call me Aaran."

"And my name is Cecil", he chimed in

"Yes yes, we are both very aware of who you are.", they responded in harmony

"I really didn't appreciate being locked away. You should let us out to play more."

It was definitely the same voice that snapped at him in the rain. It simultaneously infuriated and made Cecil feel very grateful for its help

"Feeling's mutual. Except for the gratefulness. I just hate you"

"You do not hate him, you hate me."

"Who… are you two? Evidently you're in my head, so you have some importance."

Both figures had solidified into two solid personas. The smaller, blackened one on the left had hair that ran wildly down to its shoulderblades. It was quite thin, and its hands continuously fidgeted. The taller, spotless one had clean, white hair styled in a rather trendy way. It stood tall and proud, completely motionless except when moving its hands during speech. Both wore purple glasses, and they turned to address Cecil in unison.

"We are one and the same"

"What?"

"Now is not the time."

He didn't understand. He didn't understand any of this. Who were these creatures, who claimed to be him, but were so vastly different?

"Your questions will be answered later, blind one. But for now, we ask you return to your friends, and do not seek us. In your time of need, you will always find us by your side."

"Yeah, it's time to wake up. You got a pretty girl waiting, and she's one of the few people who wears white that I can stand to look at."

Both waved their hands and Cecil's eyes closed again.

With a jolt, he shot up. Where was he? What was he doing here? Who were those people? Where are the Dissidents? What happened? Whathappenedwhathappenedwhathappenedwhathappened - He needed to slow down and think. Run through the anchors his father had taught him. He focused on the table in front of him.

His name was Cecil Lucius Aaran Corax. He never had told anyone his second middle name. It was something too special to him.

He was in Remnant, a world far from home and his team.

He was a monster hunter.

He had been injured on a hunt.

On that hunt, he had been hunting a deviljho.

A variant deviljho. This world was different.

The other hunters of this world included Qrow, Goodwitch, Ozpin, Pyrrha, several others, and Weiss.

He had no memory of what happened after he shoved his glaive, which rested in the corner of this room, into the throat of the deviljho. He looked around as his sensed began to return to him. He was weakened. It was early morning. It was still fall, when his hunt had begun so either he was asleep for a number of years or only a few days/weeks.

Cecil suddenly realized he had no idea where he was. He remembered nothing but stumbling through that terrible forest. An immense fear gripped him. Was he in some terrorist encampment? Unlikely, given the building. Was he a prisoner, doomed to fight for some unknown organization? Part of his brain knew he was overreacting and panicking, but he could not shake the dread that threatened to swallow him whole. He had some needle running into his arm. Were they drugging him? Panic and adrenaline continued to course through his veins. He saw his weapon and armor in the corner, and a sleeping doctor who had probably been assigned to keep watch over him. He had to get out of here.

He ripped off the oxygen mask and let air flow into his lungs. Every bit of him hurt. He must have been really badly injured. Next, he pulled the needle from his arm. Bending any part of his body brought excruciating pain, but he couldn't stay here. He just couldn't. He carefully moved his left leg from its place hanging from the ceiling. It was in some kind of cast - he must have broken it. Intense weakness plagued his body as he moved his right leg and felt white hot pain rush through it. He must have burned it in the fight. His head and majority of his body was wrapped in bandages. He moved as quietly as he could out of the bed, despite the protests of his body. He initially tried to pick up his glaive, but found it impossible with his wounded arms, so he settled for two crutches instead. Now to decide which leg to lean on - the bottom of his left was completely broken, and his right was burned badly. Right it was. He hobbled over to the sleeping doctor.

"Sorry buddy." was all he could get out before he slammed the crutch into his head, knocking him out cold.

Next up, figuring out how to escape. There was no way he could go through the only door in his room. He looked out the window. Second floor. He looked for a way to open the window. It was sealed shut. Sighing, he slammed the crutch again into the window. The window shattered on impact. Taking care to sweep away as much glass as he could, he managed to finagle his way up onto the open windowsill. Several people burst through the door.

"What the hell is he doing?!"

"Don't jump kid, we can talk this out."

They only confirmed his suspicions of terror. He threw both crutches at them in an almost comical way and began climbing down the wall. Climbing proved to be incredibly difficult when all he had at his disposal was one and a half hands, zero legs, and a head. Nevertheless, he managed to shimmy and slide his way down the slanted wall. He hit the ground on his right leg and began to hobble away.

Of course, he couldn't get very far because he had just woken from a coma and had two broken legs. The doctors ran him down immediately and put him back in his bed before explaining the entire situation.

He was at Beacon Academy.

He had stumbled into a lecture, and then fallen into a coma due to his injuries.

He had been asleep for three weeks.

He wouldn't believe these strange looking people. Not until he met with Ozpin and his friends.

"Unfortunately, I don't believe it's in your best interest to see your classmates right now, and Ozpin is very busy with another assignment."

They were LIARS.

But he would play their game. As Roman liked to say,

"Manage your temper. Manners, manners. Manners, manners, then burn their fucking house down."

Wait.

Where was this coming from? They had saved his life, he could at least hear them out. Soon after, one doctor left the room while another one and a huntsman stayed in to ensure he didn't jump out of the window which was now covered with a tarp and glass-free. He didn't have to wait long before a silver-haired and very stern looking man strode into his room.

"Mr. Corax. These good doctors tell me you woke up, knocked someone out, and then attempted to jump out the window."

"I made it down the window. They got me when I was hobbling away."

"May I ask why?"

"Panic."

"A fair reason. I hope you realize you are safe now. I ask you to remain in this room until you are deemed able to go out in a wheelchair. From there, you may eventually make a full recovery and be able to function as a full time huntsman again. Do you promise to listen to these doctors' advice? They are quite good at what they do."

"I promise"

Promises are just chains. Both are meant to be broken. But for now, he needed to heal. He wanted to get back onto the field, and that meant listening to their advice.

"While I can understand your panic, you must understand that your sometimes unchecked aggression has consequences. You attacked one of the doctors who was helping you. Because of that, you may not have guests inside until you are cleared for a wheelchair. Also, you broke the crutches when you threw them at others, so you won't have those for a while."

"And what can I do while I'm stuck in here?"

"Keep up with your classes."

Ozpin begun to walk out of the room, undoubtedly to tell others that they weren't allowed to see him.

"How is my dog?"

"The dog you snuck into your room?"

"Yeah, Apollo. He's real friendly by the way. I figured if he was hungry, he'd go find food."

"He was adopted into team RWBY for the time being, much to the chagrin of one of their members. He is not allowed to visit either."

"I doubt your word will stop something as determined as Apollo"

"I supposed we shall see then, Mr. Corax. Please rest up."

Ozpin closed the door behind him. Just then, Cecil noticed the backpack that had been left by his bed. It had all of his class syllabi and books in it, as well as plenty of pens and notebooks. Well, he did miss three weeks of class. Better get started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know why I found it so funny that he woke up from a coma and immediately tried to run through the window, but it makes me giggle every time.


	19. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back bois!

Cecil

Working without a teacher was hard, and so he had to resort to google for everything. His work was quietly slipped to teachers, behind the backs' of the students. They avoided mentioning him whenever possible except to mention that he was making a recovery. The second the others had heard he was awake, they had wasted no time in welcoming him back, and although he wasn't allowed to have visitors because he attacked his doctors with crutches, they managed to slip him a bag containing some cookies from Ruby, some books from Weiss, a muffin as a shout out to breakfast from Yang, and multiple pages of class notes from Blake. Nora wanted to send him some dust, but they didn't let him have it as it was highly volatile. Ren sent him a guide to meditation, Jaune sent him a kind note, and Pyrrha sent some camomile tea. The gifts touched Cecil's heart as he focused on his recovery and studies.

Focusing however, did not stop him from wanting to tear out his hair. His scalp itched with the constant medicine and bandages they had to apply, and being immobile due to his legs was very limiting. He technically was allowed to get up and go to the bathroom, as the doctors were getting sick of helping him do it, but he was completely forbidden from leaving his room. They moved his weapon and armor back to his room to keep him from getting any ideas about using them while his body healed.

Several times a week, he got positive notes and class tips from the teams. After a dozen days of being awake or so, he started getting thank you cards from other students. While Ozpin had assured him that no one spoke of their mission, many of the students had begun to put it together - big monster roars, new kid runs off, big monster stops roaring, new kid shows up injured. It didn't take a genius to piece together what happened. While most of the notes were just mindless fluff - fluff he appreciated, one specific card caught his eye. It was from the leader of team CFVY, inviting him to join their team. As much as he enjoyed the company of team RWBY and JNPR, joining a more experienced team might be nice.

As he read over it, a doctor arrived carrying his dinner plate. It seemed after three weeks of being in a coma and another two of being confined to a bed, he had finally graduated to… not soup. He couldn't quite tell what was on the plate, but at least it wasn't soup. The only solids he had had in the past two weeks were the muffins and cookies the two sisters had snuck him. He still didn't know how they got it through screening. Hours of studying had left him starving as he wolfed down… whatever it was on his plate. He vaguely heard the doctor mention numbers that didn't mean anything to Cecil about "vitamins" and "nutrients". Cecil could hunt for several days subsisting on energy bars, but when it came to brain power, it took a lot out of him.

Then again, the doctors said he couldn't hunt on energy bars and nothing else because that was "bad for his health" and "dangerous". Bah.

The doctor took the plate and left Cecil to his studying when his main doctor, who he still refused to address by name, Professor Ozpin, and everyone's favorite drunksman, Qrow walked in. Qrow, as per custom, sulked in the corner while Ozpin and the doctor addressed Cecil directly.

"Wassup, doc?"

"I told you already, my name is Doctor Gray."

"What brings this lovely visit?"

"After careful consideration and several tests, we decided you are allowed to be semi-mobile. You are required to stay in a wheelchair any time you want to go somewhere besides to sleep."

The doctor chuckled at his own bad joke before continuing.

"You will sleep in this room for another week before you will be released to your room. You will sleep for as long as possible before you go to any of your classes, and you have been waived from all of your classes that require physical effort."

"Can I at least go watch?"

"Yes, of course. What I meant to say was you will not be participating in any physical fighting. You are still allowed to utilize the workshop, provided you have another student with you to ensure you don't try to lift anything heavier than 50 pounds. Your meals will be given to you in a lunchbox, and you will eat those instead of the school food for the time being. Your left leg still needs to stay in its cast, but it is waterproof, so you can shower and bathe with it on. I still recommend keeping it out of water though."

"So can I leave now?"

Cecil was getting sick of the information being dumped on him. He got it. He has to go to class and wheel around in a wheelchair. He still has to take his meds, eat his food, and sleep at night, and he has to take care of his body. He just wanted to leave. Ozpin spoke up finally, addressing him.

"Yes, your wheelchair is over there. Lunch is just about to start, but you just ate. Go join your friends at their table though. I am sure they would be overjoyed to see you awake again."

Ignoring the hand offered to help him, Cecil stood up on his own shaky legs with the assistance of one of the poles in the room before hobbling a few steps to his wheelchair. They had managed to rig it with a small motor, ensuring he didn't need to work his arms to move or need another person to push him. He hooked his backpack, which contained everything he needed from the room plus a piece of glass from the window as a memorabilia, and Cecil rolled out the door for the first time in five weeks. Technically he had been outside the room only three weeks ago, but that was when he was climbing down a two story building having just thrown his crutches at the doctors. Stupid doctors. They were idiots, all of them. They dared to confine Cecil and limit him.

His eyes rose in moderate surprise. He had always had angry bouts as a kid when he couldn't exert some energy, but they had faded with age. He still felt the wrath inside of him from time to time, but he always supressed it. When some people got angry, they got more agressive and powerful. When Cecil got angry, he said cruel things. Cruel things he didn't even know he could say. Pushing his anger to the back of his mind, he focused on the task at hand - getting to the dining hall.

His wheelchair was surprisingly quiet as he rolled down the hall. He could only begin to imagine the amount of shit he would get from his teammates if they saw him in a wheelchair for something as minor as this. He could also already hear Roman and Sasha yelling

"Pop a wheelie!"

While Tariq would sit in the corner, quietly chuckling to himself. Moving into the elevator and down to the main floor, it hit him what a beautiful and incredibly cold day it was. It was late fall, as he had been out for over a month, and he was only wearing a tank top and shorts from the hospital. Lunch had plenty of time before he had to report to his history class, so he begun moving towards his room. Campus was silent, as everyone else was in the lunchroom eating. It was too cold to be outside.

Having reached his room, Cecil picked out a few things he would need. Some new pencils, treats for Apollo, and thank you notes he had written to each person who had bothered to write him one. He changed into some jeans and a simple, black t-shirt before donning a dark gray jacket. As he reattached his triple silver earrings, which actually belonged to Roman, he spied something he hadn't worn in a long time. A plaid scarf rested in the corner of the closet, a relic of something he had nicked from Sasha. She had stolen his favorite fleece hat, so he stole her scarf. It was a trendy blue, black, and white. With a shrug, he placed it around his neck and carelessly tossed one side over the other and over his left shoulder. Now dressed for the weather, Cecil picked up the final memoir of his team, as he might as well complete the set. He was already wearing Roman's earrings and Sasha's scarf. He picked up the beautifully carved white lute that once belonged to one of the most famous singers in all the land - Tariq. The body was smooth ivory that allowed the sound to ring out near and far. The neck and headstock were made of mahogany, contrasting the brilliant white of the body. The strings were made of nylon of Cecil's own design. Tariq had taught him to play a number of less complicated songs, both for telling their stories and a few of the sacred songs. He even taught him a song that was technically illegal - if anyone was caught singing it, they would be killed on sight, for no reason other than it was an excuse for the corrupt rulers to execute their power.

He strummed it and found it perfectly in tune. Of course it was, Tariq spent every waking moment getting it to the exact pitch. Carefully setting it in his bag, Cecil rolled in his wheelchair all the way to the lunch hall. It was pretty far from his room and it would have been much faster to run or even walk, but if he was found out of his wheelchair, they would never let him leave that scribe-forsaken room ever again. And while he had been confined there, he had begun to draft up plans for a few new designs he wanted to test. But those could wait. He just had to get into the lunchroom.

As he approached the door, he could hear the clamor inside. People were yelling, eating, and probably fighting. Perhaps he could roll in without being noticed - the table he normally sat at was pretty close to the door. But as he opened the door, all hope of remaining unseen was dashed to the ground. The entire cafeteria fell silent and stared as he wheeled to his table, eyes staring into the floor.


	20. Plans in the making

Weiss

He was back. She didn't know how, when, or why, but he was back. The person who she had only known for 2 days, the person who had tricked Pyrrha twice, the person who sliced an ursa apart with her own rapier, the person who she had visited in the hospital every day for no reason until they stopped her was back. His handsome face was still pretty to look at, but his eyes were sunken and his face was gaunt. He was in a wheelchair due to his extensive injuries, but he wouldn't permanently be confined to it. She couldn't see his bandages, but she assumed he still wore them.

"Heya. Sorry I was gone for so long."

That was all he could say?!

"That's it?! You were gone for a month! What happened? You better not lie to us."

She knew from his hospital report that he had been injured, but she didn't know how.

"I… was on a hunt and got hurt. End of story. I will be rejoining you all for classes, but I am unable to participate in any combat situations."

His talking was short and clipped, and if anyone asked about the hunt, he shut down entirely. Pyrrha had told them that they had hunted something big before he went off alone, but she also had refused to share details.

Weiss had visited him while he was in the infirmary. She didn't really know why. He wasn't classy at all, and at times, he was completely antagonistic. She didn't know much about him other than the fact that he had a pretty face and he was a good enough fighter to defeat Pyrrha. Perhaps it was the mystery that surrounded him that drove her towards him. She would crack his history open. Ruby tried by being upfront and it completely failed, so Weiss decided she would have to resort to subterfuge. Pyrrha probably knew a fair bit about him given they went on a hunt, but Weiss had managed to gather some while he was unresponsive. He had been hunting for one week, in an unresponsive state for 3, and then had to take 2 more before they let him out of his room. However, in his third week of being in a coma, he had began to stir. Many of the things he mumbled were complete garbage, things that made no sense.

"There is a thin, semantic, line separating weird from beautiful. And that line is covered in jellyfish."

"What?"

Cecil had moved. Only his mouth, but he had managed to mumble out words.

"Bananas are hardly that slippery, but watch your step anyway."

He was definitely speaking, and while Weiss could pick out the individual words, his sentences held no coherence. He continued to mumble

"A million lien isn't cool. You know what is cool? Basilisks."

Should she send for the doctors? Did these words have deeper meanings?

"It must be 3:23 PM somewhere. Maybe space?"

She was afraid to shake his frail body. If anything else functioned, she might try to wake him up. But his eyes remained closed, his hands stayed still, and his face remained completely unmoving, except for his mouth forming words.

"One incorporeal being said to the other, "I'm not here, too, make friends."

The boy who had been as silent as a snow-lit field began to chuckle. It was deep and soothing, and it soon devolved into a giggle. This boy was, by all definitions, suppose to be unmoving and unthinking. But here he was, giggling at his own joke.

"Cecil?"

Nothing. No matter what external stimulus she used, he didn't move unless he was speaking on his own terms.

"Pain is just weakness leaving the body."

That was a coherent motto she had heard before. Perhaps he was getting closer to reality. Her hopes were then brutally dashed as he mumbled the second part.

"And being replaced with pain. Lots and lots of pain."

He began giggling again. It was almost psychotic, and it was terrifying to a degree. Just as she was about to leave and go to her next class, he said something important.

"I want to go home. Please let me go home. I miss my friends."

That was something critically important about who he was. Later, when she talked to the doctors about it, they also mentioned his strange ramblings, but nothing about homesickness or relating to him.

Present

She wondered if he remembered anything.

"Hey Cecil."

"Yes, Ice Queen?"

She still loved and hated it when he called her that. She knew everyone else at the table was going to be incredibly confused. If she admitted she had gone to visit him while he was in the hospital, the amount of teasing she would receive from her teammates would be unbearable.

"A million lien isn't cool. You know what is cool? Basilisks."

Realization flickered across his face. He did remember something. But before she could question him on it, he drowned that expression in apathy.

"What an odd statement coming from Ms. Moneybags."

Antagonistic as always. There wasn't really a way to salvage it without revealing where she had been in her free time, so she just went back to eating. As they cleaned up from lunch, they had the rest of the day off. Technically, they were supposed to study in the library, but most students used the time for their own devices. Weiss planned to interrogate Cecil. He knew what he had said, but she needed to get him alone. As she was scheming, the opportunity fell in front of her.

"Hey Ice Queen. I want to go work in the shop, but the doctors don't want me in there without someone to supervise. Want to go with me?"

It was too easy.

"Very well, Cecil."

He rolled to the shop with her walking briskly next to him. As they entered, Weiss was relieved to see it was empty. Cecil rolled past her and to a table, unrolling schematics of something he was going to work on. Putting on a heavy duty coat and goggles, he set to work. Weiss did her best to find opportunites to speak with him, but it was going to be difficult to get any useful information out of him.

"Cecil, are you ok?"

"I'm alive, Ice Queen."

"Are you sure yo-"

He lifted his goggles, and when he turned and his normally calm face flashed with anger.

"I AM IN A WHEELCHAIR. I AM A HUNTER AND THE LEADER OF THE DISSIDENTS, AND I AM TRAPPED IN A GODDAMN WHEELCHAIR BY STUPID DOCTORS AND STUPID PEOPLE."

He immediately righted himself.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to yell like that. I am just angry that I was so stupid to get hurt like this."

In the middle of his outburst, there was a nugget of gold, something Weiss decided to exploit.

"You mentioned 'The Dissidents'. Are they your team?"

He stopped his work on what appeared to be some whiplike thing and turned to face her again.

"Yes. Teams back home share some similarities and some differences. There were four to a team like here, with one leader, like Beacon. The teams have a combat leader and an overall leader. Our combat leader was Sasha, but I was our general leader, also called a Reader. Teams have alternates and people they train to be part of their team, because teams aren't always in the same grade."

He was willing to be more open with her.

"The core of my team was Sasha, Roman, Tariq, and myself. Roman utilized spears and lances, and Sasha favored swords. Tariq used a magic horn and lute for support, and so I was our flex."

His team sounded similar to beacon. Yang was the most aggressive, like Roman. Ruby used bladed weapons like this Sasha girl, and Blake's Gambol Shroud allowed for flexibility in many situations. Weiss often offered support with glyphs, and she assumed it was similar to what 'Tariq' did.

"We also had a few backups and we would take turns for hunts. Kaz was our gunner with a gambling problem, Dana is our explosives expert, and Riken is our mage."

Weiss made a mental note of these people. Evidently, he cared quite a bit about them and probably missed him. But why didn't he just ask to go home? Ozpin had made many allowances for him in the past, surely one more couldn't hurt.

"But enough about me. Who are you?"

The question caught her off gaurd, but she responded quickly and gracefully, like any true Schnee.

"I am Weiss Schnee, heiress to the Schnee Dust Company."

She waited for his response.

"That means literally nothing to me."

"Where are you from where you don't know about the SDC?"

A pause.

"Far away."

He went back to his work, and she sensed he didn't want to talk anymore. She couldn't fully see what he was doing, but he was evidently tinkering with laser cutters and some beautiful silver-like metal. He worked hard, soldering and slicing and piercing his new tool. He worked for several hours while Weiss tinkered with Myrnaster. The rapier was almost perfect, but a rapier could always be sharper. It was made with the finest metal and dust money could buy, and just like it's wielder, it had to be perfect. They worked for hours in relative silence, with only the sound of drills and fire to block out the stifling silence.

Cecil was willing to open up about his teammates, but refused to talk about his home.

"If that's all you have to say, then I have a question."

Rude as always. He held up his newest creation. For being an idiot when it came to all forms of social interaction, he was a genius of weapons. It was some kind of metal whip - incredibly sharp. He had cut and layered the pieces in a way that they could flex and bend. It was maybe 9 or 10 feet long, and it was neatly coiled. The small pieces were very smooth, and it was impossible to see the seams unless she looked directly at it. A simple handle maybe a foot long rested at one end. The whip looked like it could slice through anything with little effort.

"What's your question?"

"Where can I get some kind of neural linker?"

What an odd question. What would he possibly do with a neural linker? They were brand new, top of the line, Atlas tech. They were used in cybernetics to make the metal bend to its user's will. They were expensive and someone had to have extensive connections to even think about getting one. Trying to take one out of a prosthetic would damage it beyond repair. Atlas didn't want other people using them in anything besides prosthetics because linking weapons to someone's brain could be immensely dangerous.

"Why do you ask?"

"I read about them online and the sounded interesting."

Innocent enough.

"You can't get them without the correct connections, and even then, they are incredibly expensive. The only groups who are able to get them are prosthetics companies."

She left out the fact that she could also get one if she was determined enough.

"That's too bad. Thank you though."

He went back to work. He evidently wasn't going to talk anymore about anything. He tested the whip on various dummies in the room, and it was evident that it didn't take much force to make deep, brutal cuts. However, it was probably very difficult to control. As the sun set, Weiss waved goodbye and went back to her room, thinking of some fabrication to explain her absence to her team. She had made progress today - he had told her about his team and past friends, and that was a good start.


	21. New Weaponry

Cecil

The doctors had told him to get plenty of sleep, but they never specified when he would need it. Those doctors didn't know what they were talking about. Sighing, he set back to work. He stayed in the workshop after Weiss had left. Evidently, she had forgotten that he wasn't allowed to be in there alone. Perhaps the information about his past he had shared had given her something to think about besides the fact that he wasn't supposed to be alone.

The Razor, as he had dubbed it, was coming along beautifully. He had perfected the length and sharpness, and it was proving to be a dangerous weapon. The one problem is, he lacked control. Back home, he could use magic to control the weapon, but he was not a magical person. He would need Riken to help him with it, and Riken was back home. In his late hours of research, he had found articles on neural linkers, something that could link metal to one's brain. While it was primarily used in prosthetics, Cecil theorized he could use it on the Razor to get more control and perhaps even upgrade it. His schematics allowed the Razor to operate as a whip, but if he could link it to himself, he could straighten it into a very sharp rapier. But without Riken, he lacked proper control, which left the second option. He put everything back in its place, set up the laser cutter to prime his next project, and then carefully placed the Razor in a case before wheeling back to his room. It felt good to stretch his legs. Settling into his bed, he opened his laptop and began his master plan.

He went onto the internet. He went onto a website called Touch Bionics, and he looked at their "contact us" page. And then he called them.

"Touch Bionics."

"Hello, I am a huntsman who recently lost a limb to grimm."

"Oh, I am so sorry, Sir. We sell a variety of prosthetics for huntsmen and non-huntsmen alike. Where are you located?"

"I need a right arm. My wingspan was about 6 ft, 2 inches, but I lost everything past my right shoulder. I live in Vale, near Beacon Academy."

What he heard next was music to his ears.

"I'm terribly sorry sir, but we are lacking in parts due to recent grimm attacks. However, we have another shipment going to our main base in Vale. The shipment will be there in a few weeks, and then it will only take a few days to assemble it. After supplies have arrived, would it be alright for you to come in for measurements and potential surgery? I also should tell you that prosthetics are very expensive."

It was so convenient. The stars surely did shine upon Cecil. The few weeks would give him just enough time to fully recover before he could… 'retrieve' the part he needed.

"Money is no object. Thank you very much. Do you have a more precise time frame? I must model my hunts around that time, if possible."

"Yeah, shipments run every few weeks to get here from Atlas, and another 1 week to assemble an arm after you get your measurements."

"Excellent. My next few weeks or even months are looking rather busy, and I don't use that arm much, but I will definitely call you when I'm ready for it. Thank you!"

He hung up. He had multiple weeks to recover and build his plan. He closed his laptop with a smile and peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Cecil woke the next morning and prepared for classes. He had actually gotten ahead of his classes while he was in the hospital, so he spent most of his time designing his weapons. He had three in mind - one was almost complete, one was in the works, and one was more of a fun idea than an actual weapon. The Razor had been refined to perfection and rested in his room. He had added in all the wiring and motors he would need to link it to his head. However, he needed the neural linker in order to finalize it, and he had no idea how he was going to get one. He had looked into it anonymously, but found it was essentially impossible. As class let out, he waved away the ever-eager Ruby who was offering to study with him, and instead, went back to the shop. Without him asking, Weiss joined him again. She didn't have much to work on, but he appreciated the company none the less.

"I still have a lot of work to do. You don't have to be here you know, Ice Queen."

"I can study in here without the constant noise of Ruby and her sister."

"Suit yourself, IQ. Fair warning though, I'm using the machines."

By this point, the blades he had diligently designed were fully cut. He set to work tempering and soldering the metal until he was satisfied with their toughness. While he had supplies in the Blackwagon to make weapons out of creature parts, metal was much easier to work with. He could bend and unbend it with minimal consequence, unlike the sharper parts of various monsters. Setting the axe heads aside, he pulled a case out of his backpack. Weiss leaned over to see it, but immediately began looking at her own work with great interest when he caught her staring.

The Razor slithered out of the case, sharp as ever. It was easily one of the most lethal weapons he had built. Getting parts to build this kind of weapon without the technology of Remnant would have proven to be extremely difficult back home. It glinted with a dangerous black tint, and in the right light, it would seem to be a lighter purple. It was still incredibly sharp and dangerous. However, today, his purpose was not to make a weapon. It was to make a work of art. He picked up the laser carver and begun carefully carving words into the handle and blade itself. No one would see them except for himself, but it gave the weapon a more personal touch. Placing the goggles over his eyes, he set to work.

"A hunter who flies and runs away lives to hunt another day."

"Mind your manners, then burn their fucking house down."

"Live, my son."

Words that he had kept him alive would be immortalized in an object destined to kill. He began carving his triumphs as well. The symbol of the nakarkos, now slain by Cecil. The symbol of the deviljho, now slain by Cecil. But he did not just carve his fights. He carved the symbol of the scribes who always watched over him, he placed his own symbol in. With the last bit of space on the handle, he inscribed the sacred song in the language of his home. There was some space he intended to leave blank on the blade. However, something seized him as he hastily put down three more words. Even Cecil didn't fully understand them, but he knew them from somewhere.

"Blind. Morningstar. Bravery."

Before he could even think about the words, they were already on the blade. They must mean something important to him if he put them down, so he shrugged and left them. Cecil melted down silver and carefully laid it inside the many carvings before freezing it quickly. Evidently, Weiss had already left. The sun set gently outside, bathing the shop in its warm glow. The pure silver shone a fiery red in the light as he placed the Razor back into its case. He rolled back to his bedroom, still attempting to figure out how to get his hands on a neural transmitter. He would need either people with connections, or he would need an army. The only person who had potential to get him connection was IQ, and she was out of the question. He simply refused to manipulate her like that. Which left the second option - an army. And thankfully, he knew how he might get one. In the silence of the night, he left his wheelchair behind and wandered back to the Blackwagon. He looked around, searching. Evidently, it had gotten a bit dusty while he was gone. Tariq was going to kill him, but Cecil would burn that bridge when he got to it. First, he picked up the glowing, pink crystal that sat in the corner. It served no purpose other than entertainment, but it had soothed him through many nights. Pocketing it, he picked up the sacred book of Rites, placing that into his jacket as well. Scrying for a few more seconds, his eyes finally fell on his prize. He examined up the green gem which rested on the table. The strange symbols glimmered, and he picked it up. As he did, the world around him seized.


	22. Fury

?

"Welcome back, Cecil. It has been a while since you last visited me."

"I'm sorry to have left you for so long, Sandra."

"May I ask where we are, dear Reader? I don't sense the other Dissidents."

"It appears we have been pulled to another world."

"And have you come to chat, or come to ask a favor? At this point, I don't really mind either."

"As much as I would love to claim the altruistic choice, I cannot deny my request."

"And what may that be, dear Reader?"

"I want to go home, Sandra."

If her eyes could open in shock, they would have. Sandra the unseeing was a wraith who resided in the beyonder crystal. Long ago, she was blinded and banished for refusing to show mercy. She was sent to hunt down the tyrant, Soliam Murr. Rather than understand how he had changed, she attacked relentlessly, and the other Scribes punished her for it, damning her to the crystal. The crystal originally belonged to another team, but they had grown unworthy of the Scribes. So instead, the Dissidents came to hold it. Sandra had gotten rather attached to Cecil, who frequently came just to chat. In exchange, she offered trials to his teammates, in order to hone their skills.

"An interesting request, dear Reader. What makes you think I would be able to do so?"

"You are the only person I know to have traveled from the Downside to another realm inside the crystal to here. Please, you must know some way to get out."

"If I knew a way out for myself, I would have escaped. However, the Scribes have not deemed me forgiven, and they may never do so. For all their knowledge, they were still people. Wise beyond measure, but they were sometimes arrogant and unforgiving, as evidenced by my place here."

"So there is nothing you can do?"

She could hear the crestfallen look he had on his face.

"There is nothing I can do for myself, dear Reader. However, I may be able to help you. It will not come without cost though."

"No price is too high, Sandra. Please, I just want to see my friends."

"People are anchored to their world, Cecil. No matter how far they may stray, their anchor will always pull them back. My anchor is here, in the beyonder crystal. It takes an incredibly amount of power to forcefully change someone's base, but that appears to have happened to you. Your attachment is in this world, Cecil. Not the downside."

"So I am no longer bound?"

"Perhaps not to that hellhole, but you are still tied to this world. Even if I could send you back, it will not be for long before you are dragged back here."

"Please Sandra. Give me a day."

"That is something I can manage, dear Reader. Make your final preparations, and then visit me when you are ready."

"It was nice to see you again, Sandra."

"Insensitive."

"Wait! No, I didn't mean to make a joke at your blindness! I was using a figure of spee-"

"It was a joke, dear Reader. You need some rest."

The panic in his voice was adorable, and Sandra found herself enjoying it like an older sister enjoys a panicking brother.

"Wise as ever, Sandra. I will see you soon."

She could feel him leave her presence again. She missed her adoptive brother while he was gone. With a sigh, she sat back down and returned to her meditation.

Cecil

He could go home. Cecil had a chance to go home. Because he was linked to Remnant, he had to bring something important to him that held a strong connection to his old home, and he knew just the thing. Enough time had passed during his conversation and meditation with Sandra that it was completely dark. He hoped they weren't checking his bedroom. He rooted through the chests in the blackwagon, searching for something to offer to the Scribes. His first thought was to offer the sacred book, but fearing he would never get it back, he decided against it. Instead, he dug through the chest until he found what he was looking for - something incredibly precious, but replaceable through hard work. He carefully lifted a Nakarkos Soul Gem from its resting place, wrapping it tightly in a bundle of cloth before tiptoeing back to his room, giving Apollo a quick belly-rub. Then he collapsed into his bed.

He woke up and jumped into the shower. His wounds were completely healed, and his walk last night was evidence he didn't need his wheelchair anymore. Sure they told him to use it for a few more days, but if he didn't need it, he didn't need it. He would stay out of combat to placate them, but he adamantly refused to stay in that awful chair. He no longer hand to wear bandages or a cast. As he finished toweling off his hair, he meandered to the cafeteria. He sat down with RWBY and JNPR and ate his trusty muffin and sipped his coffee. The leaves outside had mostly fallen to the ground as they sky was a dismal grey. The sky back home had always been grey, just different brightnesses. At night hours, the sky shifted to be darker, dimming the sky, with only the stars to shine through. Home had a sun and moon, but with the world shrouded in perpetual greyness, the change in light was not as drastic as it was here. Cecil found himself surprisingly homesick as he stared wistfully out the window, head resting in his palm.

"... home like?"

Ruby cautiously poked him him the shoulder to get his attention, and he turned to find himself facing eight curious students.

"Hm?"

Weiss, who had just finished speaking, looked annoyed at the fact that she had completely been ignored.

"What was your home like, Cecil?"

Back to this.

"Grey."

Ren turned to face Ice Queen and chided her

"If he doesn't want to talk about his home, don't make him talk about his home."

While Cecil appreciated the gesture, he didn't need to be entirely silent. After all, these were the people who had cared for him when he was hurt and who took him in when he as lonely. They forgave him when he golfed their friend into a door and snuck him food in the hospital.

"It's alright, Ren. Back home, we had teams of four too, but my team had three backups. We were known as the Dissidents, but the anagram of our names was STRC, or stark. I was our leader and flex pick. Leaders back home are called Readers, as they are the only ones able to read sacred texts. It's not that others don't try, it's that it's literally impossible unless you are gifted. My partner was Tariq Andromedus, our hammer and horn user. He played ballads for us as well as the sacred songs, and his skill with hammers is incredible. Always pretty quiet except when he was singing. He is the best lute player and singer I've ever had the privilege of meeting. Our long swordswoman was Sasha Grimmus. She was always either drunk or hungover, but she was a damn fine warrior, and quite funny to boot."

He smiled and continued to stare out the window, speaking to no one in particular. Everyone was listening intensely. He had never opened up this much, and certainly not about his home.

"Sasha's partner was Roman Nazegani. He was our not-so-gentle giant. He is 7 foot 4, weighs around 410 pounds, and he will straight up stab you. With a lance. Which will then shoot you. Oh, and he also has three eyes and is a god-damn savage. "

Should he tell them about the backups? Cecil was already planning on withholding a key piece of information, and it just felt wrong withholding so much.

"And then there's our backups. Lysander Lune was our gunner. He's an excellent student and the son of a wealthy man. He also happens to be an incredible shot with any kind of ranged weapon - bow, heavy bowgun, light bowgun, machine gun, ballista, whatever. Soleil Aelius uses swords, shields, and daggers, but her true specialty lies in explosives. She would be in heaven here with a highly volatile substance like dust being so widely available. And then there is Riken Garu, our mage."

"A dust wielder?" Jaune asked, genuinely curious. Magic didn't exist on remnant without the help of dust or a semblance.

"Sorta like a semblance that he could add onto. Riken called, and the elements answered, but he was always best with wind. If you ever meet them, I recommend staying away from pretty much all of them except Lysander and Tariq. Sasha is an alcoholic, Riken is a child, and Soleil is a pyromaniac."

"So your team is comprised of insane people."

"Insane people who I love, yes. They aren't dangerous to you guys, but they are a terrible influence."

Blake spoke up after simply listening.

"People like that are dangerous to everyone, Cecil. You shouldn't associate with people who might hurt other people."

Cecil's eyes narrowed and for a second, anger flickered across his face before being replaced with a blank stare.

"Back home, hunters aren't soldiers. There are no soldiers. There are no large-scale wars back home. We lose too many good hunters to the monsters that we don't have the resources to fight each other. If we want something done, the community comes together on a consensus and brings it to a table diplomatically. When we became hunters, we swore an oath to never harm another being for anything other than defense of self, defense of others, or defense of innocents."

Now it was Jaune's turn to snap at him.

"And yet you had no problem hitting Pyrrha with a battleaxe the size of a house."

"Jaune! Really, I'm fine, Cecil. It's in the past."

Another flash of anger passed over Cecil's face, but this time, the anger moved deep inside him, burning with passion.

"No, let's talk about this. I came here thinking I would be a hunter, that I would hunt monsters who threatened innocents. Instead, I was thrust into the role of soldier. I did not chose to fight another person, but I did chose to win once the situation called for it. But I am sick of you acting as though it is alright for you to train to hurt other people. I am sick of fighting everyone else's battles because they are too weak to protect themselves from the grimm!"

Cecil spied his eyes darkening in the reflection of the window, but at this point, his anger threatened to consume him. It was manifesting itself through his rapidly changing eye-color, from a peaceful magenta to an angry red.

"Maybe if you stopped killing each other, innocent people wouldn't die to the grimm!"

Fury echoed through the now-silent cafeteria. His anger quickly subsided and his eyes reverted to their normal magenta. Something other than himself had caused that outburst. Those thoughts, that voice, they didn't belong to Cecil, not him in his right mind. No, they were something far more primal. He took a deep breath and realized he was standing up, palms angrily slammed on the table. His frustration at having to hurt his friends and hurt himself for the gain of others had finally boiled over. With a deep breath, he picked up his backpack and said simply

"I'm going home. Don't bother me."

And he walked out.


	23. Homsick

Cecil slammed his door open and a storm followed. His face was dark and brooding. Anger was an emotion he had known for a long time but he had always tried to suppress it. When it leaked through, it was never pretty. It had lead to his teacher physically attacking him, it had lead to several nasty fights within the Dissidents, and now it had potentially ruined his next chance at friends. Even Apollo's happy demeanor couldn't calm the tempest that raged inside of him. He had always been a calm boy until suddenly it exploded out. When he had woken up after his battle with the deviljho, he had felt it again. He was angry at the doctors for daring to confine him, angry at Ozpin for not letting him leave the room, angry at everyone for not letting him work in peace.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Breathe out the anger. Tariq had taught him many meditation practices, and he employed them in his room, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He would not give into anger, not yet. He laughed to himself as he thought about how even though he was furious at them for something they couldn't control, he still hadn't told them about the stories behind the Dissidents. He had claimed they were such virtuous people. But good people don't get exiled to the Downside.

Back home, there were two realms, the Upside and the Downside. The Upside was where most lived under the oppressive fist of Archjustice Androbeles. The Upside was controlled in every aspect, but it was peaceful. Man mastered every part of the world. But for those who refused to conform, only the Downside waited. The Downside was the realm of the monsters and exiles. The Dissidents were criminals. The Downside could not support large kingdoms like the Upside, so instead small villages were favored. Many different institutions trained hunters to ward off the monsters from the villagers. When there was no government to protect the exiles, they protected each other. Every day it seemed like a new village was made and another was destroyed. The Downside was a realm of perpetual twilight, with the people therein barely scraping by as monsters ravaged the lands, but it was home.

He sat down at his desk and began sketching up more blueprints for more weapons. Creating weapons had always calmed him. Here, weapons meant the wielder was a danger to others. But back home, those who held weapons were protectors. It was unthinkable for a hunter back home to attack another person without cause. Those who did were shunned from villages. People outside of villages didn't last long.

As he dragged his pencil across the graph paper, he heard a soft knock on his door. Before he could debate whether to let them in, the door opened without his invitation. To his surprise, it wasn't Weiss, Pyrrha, or Jaune at his door. Instead, Blake Belladonna stood in the doorway.

"Come in, Ms. Belladonna. If you want tea, I have a kettle and some tea bags somewhere on that shelf."

She stepped in and cautiously closed the door behind her before putting the kettle on the stove.

"I apologize for my outburst in the cafeteria, Ms. Belladonna. It was completely rude of me to yell at those who care for me."

"I just wanted to come talk to you. You aren't from here, are you?"

Despite his nervousness at being called out, Cecil let out a polite chuckle.

"Someone has been reading too many fantasy novels it seems."

Her yellow eyes turned upwards and pierced him to his soul.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Seems I've been figured out. It's a very long story, but if you want to know about my friends, ask Ice Queen. If you are curious about my religion, ask Pyrrha."

"Neither of those are where you are from."

She had seen through his dodging of the question.

"I'm from a place called the Downside."

"What's it like?"

It was a seemingly broad question, but it had a very simple answer.

"Hell."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she poured some tea into two cups and handed one to him. Seemed that she was here to stay.

"We aren't here to train as weapons, Cecil. We are here because we genuinely want to protect people."

They still claimed that they were anything but soldiers? The audacity threatened to bring the anger back to the surface, but Cecil quickly swallowed it back down. For now, he could listen.

"I came here from a… troubled background. I hated that I was potentially hurting innocents, so I left everything I had and came here."

"A fellow criminal, eh? Well if there's hope for you, then there may be hope for me."

His eyes widened when he realized his mistake as she froze and stared into her tea.

"Fellow?"

He had to salvage this. Cecil begun waving his hands erratically and put on his best sheepish face.

"Ah, it's an expression! Merely hyperbole. I have not committed any crimes."

"What did you do, Cecil?"

He could lie to all the others, but she picked him out every time. And it was infuriating.

"I exploited my position in the government."

"So you're corrupt."

"I don't see how my business suddenly became your business!"

"It became my business when a corrupt person like you sat down with us at lunch."

The anger was coming again, but this time, Cecil didn't want to push it away. It wasn't even her fault that he was angry. He was the one who got offended, but she wasn't helping it. However, she was looking out for the safety of her friends.

"I used my position in the government to teach myself how to read sacred texts."

She froze. She loved to read, Cecil had seen her with her face buried in a book numerous times. But at this point, he wanted her out of his room and out of his face. He had everything prepped to go home where he wouldn't have to deal with these future killers at all.

"That was illegal?"

Cecil only managed to choke out a soft "Yes" before his fury consumed him. When he spoke, it was no longer his voice, no longer his thoughts. He didn't know how he knew the things he said next.

"You know what else is illegal, Ms. Belladonna? Stealing a train. Killing innocents. Coming to this school and hiding what you really are - a terrorist."

His eyes became red again and his face twisted into a cruel snarl.

"How did you know that…"

"Oh, I know so much about you, Blake Belladonna, heir to Menagerie and former member of the terrorist organization, the White Fang. Murderer. Liar. Killer. Terrorist."

"Stop it!"

But at this point, he no longer wanted to. It felt good to let it all out. He stood up and snarled at her

"I wonder how Weiss Schnee would react if she learned you were the one responsible for stealing a car full of explosive materials from her father! Did you know those explosives were later used to bomb a small village of people?"

Her eyes rose in horror

"Of course you didn't. Why don't you just run away with your little cat ears tucked away like they always have?! NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!"

It was as though he could see into her soul and point out every one of her weaknesses. It was so easy.

And then he crumpled, spilling boiling tea all over himself. Blake's eyes were filled with tears as she kicked the exhausted Cecil to the side and stormed out of the room.

"Blake. I'm so sorry. I don't know where that came from, but that's not me. I promise. Please don't hate me, I'll never do it again!"

"I never want to talk to you again."

His anger subsided and was replaced again with intense guilt. When he was angry in the past, he took it out through training and hunting. But they refused to let him, and so he was hurting his friends instead. They would never want him back. Not after what he said. Ignoring his scorched skin, Cecil dragged himself to the nearby chest and picked up a brilliant white gem and a large green sphere as the world around him began to spin.

"Sandra, I want to go home."

"Dear Reader, welcome back to you too. You are aware I may not be able to send you back permanently?"

"Send me home. Please. There is no home here."

"Very well, dear Reader. The nakarkos soul gem, please."

Cecil gingerly picked up the white stone, said to be the heart of the bone dragon itself. It literally screamed in protest as the souls trapped inside cried for release.

"You will go once I say you are ready. Grab some armor and a weapon, and then I will send you home."

"Thank you, Sandra."

Cecil reawoke moments later in his room and grimly put on his trusty gore magala armor and hefted a sword and shield. It was another charge blade made of tigrex parts. When charged, he could shift it into a massive battleaxe and wreak havoc. Setting them onto his back, he turned towards the door, called Apollo to sit next to him, and said simply

"Sandra, I'm ready. Send me home."


	24. Introducing the one... the only... Dissidents!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet some of the famed Dissidents! And (Spoiler alert), they're a bunch of shitheads. But what can you expect from a group like them?

?

Plesioths were awful to hunt, and their latest contractor had them facing off against two hyper versions. They were faster, meaner, and more obnoxious than their counterparts. One was currently swimming in the water, being bombarded by Lysander's newest lightning shots while the rest of them swung for the fences at the second plesioth. Plesioths were big, piscine wyverns with two, powerful legs and two wings. Tiny eyes flashed in fear as Soleil's bomb detonated, blasting the plesioth's compatriot out of the water. One final stab into the first monster left it unmoving on the ground, but killing one was only the beginning. All six hunters were exhausted. Sasha's longsword dragged across the ground, Lysander was breathing hard from cranking and loading his cannon over and over. Sweat poured down his face in the hot, humid air as he shoved another few crackling lava rocks into his gun. The method was completely crude, but in the Downside, it wasn't worth refining them into something more useful, given how many he went through in a given hunt. Soleil's daggers had set to work carving off the first plesioth's fin, giving her a break while simultaneously harvesting the most valuable part. Even Roman was leaning heavily on his gunlance as the second monster stamped its feet and Tariq's fingers were bleeding as he hefted his lute again. Only Riken stood upright, his posture as perfect as always. But even he had to be boiling alive under his heavy robes in the brutal sunlight. The magical pages of his tome flickered to a new page on their own as he extended the book and began mumbling another spell. Lightning begun to crackle at his fingertips as he raised his free hand towards the plesioth.

The plesioth was big and angry, given that the six hunters before it just stabbed its mate to death. By Tariq's estimation, the second plesioth was about 40 yards tail to tip of head. Sasha had little time to think about how long that would take to kill before an ice cold blast of water launched her into the nearest boulder. Thankfully, her zamtrios armor had taken the brunt of it. She mentally thanked the ice shark for its comfortable and protective hide before getting digging her longsword, Tigrine Need into the ground and vaulting towards the plesioth. It caught her mid-air with a hipcheck, sending her back into the boulder.

They were battered, bruised, and bloody. All six of them just wanted to go home. They missed Cecil. In his mysterious absence, no one had really been able to step up to lead. Sasha had managed to keep the team stable, but Cecil's decisions had always been excellent in group hunting, and Sasha was not known for good decision-making. She had started drinking at age 16, and never really stopped. Riken once had taken a beautiful bottle and had attempted to enchant it with infinite wind. Unfortunately, while incredibly powerful, he was still a novice mage and he managed to mix up the sacred word for "wind" with "alcohol", and thus, Sasha's favorite object was born. The alcohol wasn't particularly strong and didn't have any particular taste other than dirt. But it got the job done. Unfortunately, she no longer had it or any other prized possessions that once resided in the Blackwagon, as it was nowhere to be found. Her collective hangover probably had as much chance at killing her as any other monster in the Downside.

Shaking her regrets and headache out of her mind, Sasha sat up once again. They had been going at this for hours and had made almost no progress. Lysander had managed to blast it's protective neck plating off the back, but the hunters couldn't get to it because every time they tried to jump, the plesioth would knock them out of the air either by slamming its hips into them or catching them mid-air with a sweep of its massive tail. Everyone was almost ready to call it quits. Fighting a hyper plesioth after just taking out one was wearing them down. They were ready to set down their weapons and run home when Sasha heard an all-too familiar voice in her head. The voice of her leader. The voice of Cecil.

"Knock it over."

Her head snapped to attention and she saw all of her teammates do the same. They all glanced at each other, confirming what they had just heard, when Sasha roared out the command.

"Focus all firepower on the left leg and foot!"

Slashing from Sasha's longsword

Magical, empowering songs from Tariq's lute

Stabbing from Roman's lance

Explosive shots from Lysander's gun

Explosions from Soleil's bombs

Lightning bolts from Riken

All of their firepower crashed into the plesioth's leg as it toppled to the ground. As it flailed, all six of the hunters heard their leader's voice again. Not in their heads, but from…

Above?

"PREPARE FOR TITANFALL, BITCHES!"

Sasha saw a vague shape drop from the sky screaming something about "titanfall" before it crashed into the neck of the plesioth. Dust flew everywhere as did dirt and blood. When the wreckage settled, the saw a single figure in full gore-magala with a massive axe buried in the ground where there was once a plesioth neck. It was soaked in blood, and as it removed its helmet, she saw his face. Cecil had returned.

"Guess who's back?"

Sasha stared. Tariq began to softly play a song of celebration. Roman didn't move. Lysander aimed his gun at the figure. Soleil ran up and hugged him. Riken closed his book.

"We thought you were dead, Reader."

"Well I'm not."

Overjoyed at the appearance of his other masters, Apollo ran up and jumped on Sasha, licking her face.

"Apollo is happy to see you."

"So it would seem."

Awkward. Their leader, who they thought was dead or MIA, had just fallen out of the sky on top of a plesioth.

Lysander spoke up

"Welcome home, Reader."

"Where have you been?"

"How did you fall out of the sky?"

"Where did those scars come from?"

Cecil held up his hands, silencing the Dissidents.

"Let's go get drinks. Trust me, you won't believe me sober."

Sasha addressed their leader again.

"While that's a lovely idea, it's kinda impossible. We are several days out from hunting these plesioths, and if you haven't noticed, the Blackwagon is MIA."

On cue, the Blackwagon floated to the ground next to them.

"Yeah, about that…"

Sasha punched him hard in the chest before boarding the cart.

The rest of the Dissidents boarded and immediately found their familiar, comfortable places. Tariq rested against the wall, mindlessly strumming out songs on his recently-returned white lute. Lysander was doing maintenance on all his weapons, sharpening knives, stringing bows, and cleaning bowgun parts. Soleil was tinkering on her desk with a bit of the "dust" Cecil had brought back with him. Her eyes lit up when a small pile of it resulted in a large explosion. Roman was meditating silently, and Cecil was probably perched on the helm, watching the trees and plains fly by. Riken huddled in the corner, eyes scanning his books as he jotted down notes for more enchantments.

"I've got it!"

All eyes turned to the excited mage. Riken was a calm and smart kid until he made a large leap. Then he was like a kid celebrating on the solstice, the biggest holiday in the Downside. Even Cecil descended the stairs to see what the commotion was.

"I've figured out how to bind our weapons!"

Eyebrows were raised all around.

"Erm, we already can die some string around our weapons."

"No, I mean soulbind them!"

Sasha, more than slightly drunk off her unlimited supply of shitty alcohol, responded to the kid.

"'Soulbind?'So, are we killing sixhundred and sixty six goats or are we sacrificing a virgin? Because if it's the latter, Cecil volunteers."

"Fuck off, Sasha", their leader said with mirth on his face.

"Everyone knows we would sacrifice Roman."

"Have you seen Roman? Dude definitely fucks."

"Hey Roman, do you fuck?"

The three-eyed titan opened its eyes as they bored into their leader.

"Yeah, I fucked your mom last night."

"Fuck off, ya cunt!"

Riken let out a clearly-fake cough.

"If you are done telling each other how you've all slept with each others moms, I can tell you about this enchantment."

Still laughing to himself, Cecil smiled at the young mage and told him to continue.

"So with my supplies and notes returned, I can bind a weapon to your soul. Anywhere your soul is, there is that weapon."

"I'm pretty sure that has to do with your heart and home, but whatever."

"Anyway, it means you can summon it from anywhere at anytime."

Their eyes lit up with excitement. No more carrying 100lb weapons on their back through a hot, humid forest in the middle of summer. Soleil jumped out of her seat first

"I volunteer as tribute!"

"What?"

"Soleil has been watching too many pirated movies again."

They agreed and watched as Riken drew out the magic circle. Placing Soleil and her favorite shortsword in the middle, he held up his hand and began to chant something in the language of mages. Soon the shortsword vanished, and Soleil stood there alone as Riken instructed her as to how the enchantment would work

"Now extend your hand like so, and will the weapon to your hand."

And on queue, a perfect replica of her shortsword materialized. With a flick of her wrist, it was gone again.

"Awesome!"


	25. Return

Cecil

Exhaling, the mage bound the rest of their weapons. Sasha got her longsword, Tariq got his lute, Riken bound his tome of spells to himself, Cecil got his charge blade, Soleil got her shortsword, Lysander got his golden bow, and Roman got his lance and shield. They finished binding weapons just as the Blackwagon landed at their favorite bar. They all strode in, money in hand and readiness to drink themselves to oblivion. Taking on an almost mothering tone, Cecil addressed their mage.

"Riken, you're designated driver."

"Oh come on!"

"Riken Garu. You are 14 years old. You are not old enough to drink."

"There's no law against it in the Downside!"

"There's also no law against waking you up every day at 6 AM, but you don't see me doing it."

Sasha chimed in.

"Also, you've only ever drank once. And we are now banned from that bar. Because you burned it down."

Huffing, Riken sat down at the table and ordered a chocolate milk. He refused to look at any of them and simply grumbled to himself. Once Cecil was satisfied with how shitfaced everyone was, he told his story.

"I was in the Blackwagon while you were all out somewhere when I heard a voice calling to me. I focused on it, and next thing I knew, I was somewhere else. I apparently had been pulled to a world known as Remnant. Imagine a fusion of the Downside and the Upside. Its got corrupt leaders, giant monsters that slaughter people, a race war, and some awesome weapons. It's like a shitty version of home. Anyway, I met some people, killed some monsters, met some more people, killed another monster, spend a month in a coma, killed some more stuff, called my friend a terrorist, and spilled hot tea all over myself."

The intoxicated members of the Dissidents nodded along.

"I got homesick and asked Sandra to send me home. She did, but I don't know how long I'll be here. I'm still anchored to that world, and I could get pulled back at any time."

The bartender walked back and refilled all their drinks. Sasha had gone through god-knows how many shots, and the rest varied from a few drinks to completely sober.

"So you don't get to stay?"

"I won't know."

They exchanged stories about Remnant, the grimm, and the adventures of the Dissidents. Roman continued to stab things with an oversized lance, Sasha almost died from her collective hangover, Tariq made a new hammer which was actually just a boulder and a stick, Lysander sniped a dragon out of the sky with a gun, Soleil blasted a dragon out of the sky with a bomb, and Riken tazed a dragon out of the sky with a lightning bolt. Good times all around.

Cecil tossed an incredible amount of money on the table to pay for the drinks, most of which was Sasha as he, Roman, and Riken begun dragging their team mates out of the bar. Soleil protested loudly as they pulled her away from her latest crush, which was actually just a bar stool. They had parked the Blackwagon next to a nearby stream, and since the were still covered in blood, sweat, dirt, and all other sorts of unsavory things, the three most sober of the Dissidents unceremoniously threw the other four into the icy water.

The other three jumped in after and pulled their soaked, cold, and furious teammates from the water. But at least they were cleaner. The four unwilling participants were thrown spitting and cursing into their beds before everyone turned in. As they tossed and turned, Cecil thought on how he ended up here. Earlier, he had described it as hell. And in many ways, it was. The best food they could get without paying an insane price was nothing more than grey slop, there were monsters constantly trying to kill them, there were bandits constantly trying to kill them, and the world itself was constantly trying to kill them. The deathless tempest threatened all trade over the Sea of Solis, and the dangers of the land prevented large caravans from crossing over. And yet, it was home.

His family was composed of his father, his mother, and his twin brother. His father loved Cecil more. Cecil was more than happy to start training at a young age to be a soldier like his father, who was a decorated war captain. As a boy, he dreamed of being sent to the northern border and slaughtering some of the harps, his people's mortal enemy. The harps existed in Remnant too, they were just called faunus. At least in remnant, people didn't kill faunus on the street. Being a harp in the kingdom of Sahr was literally illegal, and criminals could be exiled for it. His brother, Adrius, wanted to be a politician, and Cecil's father hated that. In his eyes, politicians were nothing more than filthy scumbags, who lied and cheated their way into power. But Cecil knew about his father's influence. At only five years old, he used his father's position to get into the restricted library, where he discovered his gift to read the sacred texts. He didn't know any of the common language's words, despite his tutor's best efforts, but the meanings behind the symbols flooded to him. Empathy, kindness, and compassion for the harps. The harps and humans had the same ancestor, but they split apart. The sacred scrolls told of eight beings known as Scribes, who worked together as human, harp, and everything in between to bring order and freedom to the downside. Only through the path of the Scribes could exiles be freed. Excited and terrified of this knowledge, Cecil ran back and told his brother, his closest friend, all about it. Three days later, he was anonymously reported for forbidden knowledge and sentenced to Exile.

Just thinking about that little rat who called him 'brother' made Cecil slam his fist into the wall. His elder brother was enough of a beast that he was probably the top of the downside. Cecil could have checked in on him, because even though people could not pass through the magical barrier that separated the Downside and the Upside, paper and non-living things could. The people in the Upside could greatly ease the suffering of those in the Downside, they just didn't care. As far as they were concerned, Cecil and his friends were all filthy criminals who deserved their exile. Cecil stopped checking on his brother after their father died on a hunt. Adrius was no brother of his.

Turning back again, Cecil closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep before the bunk below him chimed up

"Can't sleep, Reader?"

Riken was the only other one awake. Roman could fall asleep in the middle of the hunt if he chose to, and the rest were too drunk to not sleep.

"Nope. Too worried."

"About what? You're home, with us. Where you belong."

Even in the darkness of the Blackwagon, with only the torchbugs dimly lighting the room, Cecil could sense the smile on Riken's face. Riken had always looked up to him as an older brother, as Cecil was the only other Dissident able to use advanced magic. Lysander, Sasha, and Soleil were all inept, and Tariq's magic came from his weapon. Roman could teleport short distances, but nothing more. Cecil's magic, or semblance as they would have called it, was much more.

"You know I may not be able to stay? Will you be alright if I have to go again?"

"Of course not. We missed you too much while you were gone already. And if you try to leave us again, I will drag you back here with every ounce of magic in my body."

Cecil smiled into the ceiling at that comment.

"I would expect nothing less."

His heart put at ease, Cecil's eyes began to close. He could hear Riken snoring softly above him, and he hoped the young mage didn't sleep cast again. Some people sleep walked outside of their house, or maybe said some embarrassing things while they slept. Riken once lit a tent on fire by accidentally casting a fire spell with his book close in hand. He didn't read at night anymore. Cecil faded softly into sleep again.

He dreamed of the gloomy skies of the Downside, which faded into the endless azure expanses of Remnant. First, he saw the Dissidents, laughing and fighting together. Then he saw teams RWBY and JNPR, locked into combat against each other, wearing smiles as they sparred back and forth. Soon, the groups morphed together, and the Dissidents danced around the young huntsmen. He saw his razor, and his unfinished plans for it, but he also saw his axes and shields, tucked in the corner of the Blackwagon. And then it all began to burn as cruel laughter filled the room. His little brother, still looking like his 5 year old self, loomed over everything he loved and watched it burn, a cruel and high-pitched laughter filling his mind.

"This isn't real! You're not real, Adrius!"

"My presence is always real, little brother. You know what happened, the day you were sent to the Downside?"

"You. You reported me."

"Yes, little brother. I reported you."

"Why? We were friends! Family! We shared everything! Our hopes, our dreams, our ambitions! And you threw it all away!"

"WE ARE NOT FAMILY! My family died the day father"

Adrius spits on the ground

"Family died when father chose to go live in hell for the rest of his life with his favorite son instead of stay in his position of power with the only son who would ever be successful"

"You threw me away like a piece of garbage as a test for father?!"

"All I ever wanted was father's love and approval! And I went through hell for it while he willingly gave it to you! My brother!"

"You're no brother of mine, Adrius."

The fire continued to roar as Cecil turned away.

"We never were."

The world begun to spin and the flames melded together into a blur of crimson and gold.

Cecil sat up with a groan. Everything was still spinning, and his body was heated like he had a fever. The rest of the Dissidents woke up too, in likewise shape. They all began to climb out of their beds, each looking rather sick. The world had shifted to a lighter shade of grey while the Dissidents were all varying shades of green.

"What the fuck did they feed us at that bar?"

Sasha was about ready to fall over. Soleil was already hurling into a nearby waste basket.

"Got any asprin? Or healing spells?"

Riken just shrugged.

"My healing spells are for external wounds or serious internal damage, not your hangover."

But even Riken, who hadn't drank at all, was looking sick. Roman, who always held a perfect, upright posture, was steadying himself on one of the bunk-bed posts.

The contents of the Blackwagon began to spin faster and faster as they dropped to the ground in pain. Even the mighty titan, known as Roman Nazegani, was writhing on the ground, snarling "I am so much better than this!" over and over.

Eventually, the world faded for them all.

…

…

…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Pyrrha

Pyrrha had been sitting in the lunch room eating with her teammates. Cecil had vanished not too long ago, but none of them wanted to broach the subject. Yang brought him up once and was immediately silenced by Blake. Whatever he had said had clearly hurt her, and while Pyrrha thought he was a good person, she did not condone him wounding her friends like that.

She blinked for one second before hearing the earsplitting scream of her fellow classmates. As her head snapped up, she saw seven figures appear in the middle of the ceiling from nowhere, before crashing to the floor. One was a woman of maybe 20 years, with raven black hair. One was a man in all white, maybe 30 with a comically large hat and ivory hair. One was a child, younger than Ruby, in large robes, tightly clutching a book. One was a girl with silver hair, maybe 17, and boy lay near her, about the same age, with golden blonde hair and armor. Then there were the two that caught her interest. Pyrrha couldn't tell if he was a monster or a person. It had two arms, two legs, and a head, but it was easily 7 feet tall and wearing a skull as a mask with sharp black hair slicked forward. And the last being lying on the ground…

Was Cecil Corax. He was disheveled and looked positively sick to the core, but even with his white hair running wild, Pyrrha could never mistake those magenta eyes and purple glasses as they looked up frantically around the room. And hearing him speak confirmed it. He scanned the room before locking onto her table, and she could hear him mumble one phrase.

"Oh god. Ozpin is going to kill me."

And then he, with the rest of his compatriots, passed out onto the demolished table they had landed on.


	26. Return 2.0

Cecil

Everything hurt. He had a terrible headache, and his body was very sore. He was lying on his chest on an uneven and hard surface, and he felt like he had just been punched by someone wearing an iron glove. He craned his neck upwards and scanned the room he was in to find it was all-too familiar. Squinting into the bright lights, Cecil slowly picked himself up and scanned the room. A number of students, ranging from maybe 18 to around 22 years old were staring at him, completely silent. His eyes at last fell upon the people who he was standing next to. Six other people lay face-down on the table they had landed on, or what was left of it. Exhaling, Cecil sharply drove his foot into the nearby person, a girl with raven black hair.

"Up and at-em, Sasha."

Keeping her eyes closed, she groaned and swatted his leg, completely oblivious to the situation around her. She mumbled at the person who had kicked her in the language of the Downside. Because the Downside was the amalgamation of all criminals from all over the Upside, they spoke many languages. Cecil and Tariq had mastered many of them, but over time, a common language evolved in the downside as a creole of the many languages of the Upside.

"Foda-se." (Fuck off.)

"Levante-te, preguiçoso" (Get up, lazy)

As Sasha sat up, he woke up the others as well.

"Soleil, levante-te." (Soleil, get up.)

The girl in gray's eyes rolled open as she too, sat up. It didn't take long to get the rest of the Dissidents awake, although most still kept their eyes closed

"Todos estão bem?" (Is everyone alright?)

A round of "Sim (Yes)" ran through them as they rubbed their eyes and held their heads. No one else dared move towards or away from these gibberish-speaking people who had materialized mid-air and demolished one of the lunch tables.

Lysander sniffed at the air, mumbling "Cheira bem (It smells good)"

Immediately, Sasha, Lysander, Soleil, and Riken leapt to their feet and made a mad dash towards the kitchen, with Cecil yelling after them

"Não toque em nada!" (Don't touch anything!")

The four hungry Dissidents completely ignored his warning and began wolfing down food. They hadn't eaten anything that had any flavor for a number of weeks. Food was scarce enough in the Downside, and they always ate either monster meat which was very tough and chewy, or whatever Tariq could find. The best way to make things safe was to essentially pulverize it and mix it with boiling water. While it did confirm the food wouldn't do anything worse than make them sick for a few days, it destroyed any semblance of flavor it might have had. So when the Dissidents were faced with the possibility of eating something besides gruel, they quite literally jumped at the opportunity.

The rest of the students stood paralyzed in fear, and Cecil figured he might as well address them.

"Umm…. hey guys."

Great start.

"So you probably remember me, but for those who don't, my name is Cecil Corax."

Soleil chimed from the side, mouth full of food.

"Isso é delicioso!" (This is delicious!)

"Cale-se, Soleil!" (Shut up, Soleil!), Cecil snapped back. He turned back towards the frightened students.

"So these are my teammates. Meet the Dissidents."

Tariq pleasantly waved a hand, Riken, Sasha, Soleil, and Lysander were too busy eating, and Roman was… Roman.

Roman alone was probably more terrifying than the fact that they had fallen from the sky. And he was just standing there.

One student tentatively raised their hand to ask a question, but it was drowned out by the sound of the Dissidents' eating

"feche a merda, Dissidents!" (Shut the fuck up, Dissidents!)

They ignored him and continued being way too loud in the silent lunchroom

"Obedeça seu leitor!" (Obey your reader!)

Immediately, all six of them fell silent and snapped to attention. Cecil pointed to the boy again, who spoke in a very quiet voice.

"Did you um… just fall from the sky?"

"Yes."

He turned and briskly walked towards the door, the rest of his company in tow before they were stopped by a very angry looking Glynda Goodwitch.

"Mr. Corax. Good to see you've returned after your vanishing act yesterday. And you've brought some friends, too. How… charming."

She was not happy, and the crop she always carried twitched in anger. Roman, in all his titanic glory, and still wearing his admittedly terrifying mask stepped forward and spoke in a voice so quiet that almost no one else heard him. But those who did described it like rolling thunder. Low and terrifying, signifying a storm approaching.

"Você precisa de mim para lidar com isso?" (Do you need me to deal with this?)

"Não, Roman, tenho isso" (No, Roman, I have this.)

"Apenas diga a palavra e eu estarei lá" (Just say the word and I will be there.)

The beast known as Roman took a respectful step backward, his three eyes never leaving Glynda. Even she seemed to shrink ever-so-slightly before him.

"I suppose we should go talk to Ozpin, huh?"

"His office. Now."

Glynda took a cold step backward and walked away hurriedly, doing her best to not show fear.

"Precisamos de nossas armas?" (Do we need our weapons?)

"Não." (No.)

They all moved out of the lunchroom as everyone else stared in shock, until a cheery voice from a certain red-wearing girl rang out.

"Cecil's back!"

In Ozpin's office (Cecil)

Ozpin stared in almost disbelief at the group in front of him. He had asked, begged the gods for help, and they sent him a stubborn seventeen year old. That seventeen year old proceeded to vanish from existence shortly after he arrived, and no one could find him. Then, he suddenly reappears in the middle of the dining hall, with six others, who all fell unceremoniously onto the table and ate all of the potatoes.

"I suppose we might as well start with introductions. My name is Professor Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon Academy, the building in which you currently stand. Please, tell me your name and occupation."

"I'm Ceci-"

"We already know who you are, kid." Qrow growled from the corner. He was on babysitting duty again. Cecil crossed his arms and pouted at Qrow. The Dissidents glanced at their leader, and Riken quietly mumbled

"Devemos dizer alguma coisa?" (Should we say anything?)

"Apresente-se" (Introduce yourselves.)

Without further ado, Sasha extended her hand towards the old headmaster, who stared for a second before taking it in a solid handshake.

"The name's Sasha Grimmus. I act as our backup leader and long swordswoman."

And so the introductions began.

"Tariq Andromedus. Emissary of the Scribes for the Dissidents. I am our hunting-horn and hammer wielder, though I prefer not to fight unless necessary."

"Lysander Lune, of house Lune. While I initially trained with the rapier, I currently serve as our group's gunner and ranged fighter."

"My name's Soleil! Soleil Aelius! I'm our demolitions expert, but I can also use short swords and daggers when we need someone quick."

A short boy, only 5'1", and skinny as a twig spoke next.

"I'm… Riken. Garu. I use magic."

Riken immediately stepped back to the side of Cecil, who softly put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Riken had never been good with strangers. At last, only Roman was left. He stepped toward Ozpin. Ozpin was tall, standing at around 6'6", but Roman still towered over him. Ozpin looked up at the mountainous figure without fear, even as all three of Roman's red eyes bored into him.

"Roman Nazegani. Fists and Lances."

And then he stepped back, casting a protective shadow on all his teammates. Unshaken, Ozpin spoke to them all, but more specifically, to Cecil

"We can house all of you in a double room, and we can feed you. However, those of you who should be attending school will need to attend classes, and those of you who chose to opt out must find some day occupation."

The rest of the Dissidents stayed silent as Cecil spoke for them.

"I will, of course, continue my classes. Sasha is 21, Tariq is… well we don't know how old Tariq is, and Roman is 27. Therefore, I believe it would be best for myself, Lysander, who is 19, Soleil who is 17, and Riken, who is 14, to attend classes. That way, we would not have to join other teams. I can vouch for all of them when it comes to combat experience, as we have all attended school together back home for a year. Until a dragon burned it down, but that's another story."

"So it would be yourself as leader, Mr. Corax, with Lysander Lune, Soleil Aelius, and Riken Garu as your teammates?"

"I believe that would be the best option."

"Then it is settled. You four will attend classes as team CLRS, or team colors. The other three will find day occupations and pay a rent fee unless they wish to move out. Does that agree with you?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Your three teammates will join you in classes starting next week. Here is the key to your new room."

As the Dissidents moved outside of Ozpin's office, he called out.

"Mr. Corax? A word in private, please."

Cecil waved the rest of them on and stepped back inside.

"Did you mean to bring them here in such an attention drawing matter?"

"I didn't mean to bring them here at all."

Ozpin's eyebrows rose in mild surprise as he continued speaking.

"One more question before I let you go, Mr. Corax. Qrow, Glynda, could you step outside?"

The two teachers glanced at each other before nodding and shutting the door behind them.

"I am curious as to how you know about Ms. Belladonna's' unsavory past. I believe no one else known about it other than her old partner, Adam Taurus, her family, and myself. So how did you come to learn about it? I would like to keep student confidentiality, especially in cases such as herself."

How did he know about it? He hadn't read or asked about it, it had just come to him with his argument with her.

"I don't know, sir. When I got mad, it was just like I could see all her flaws and exploit them. As she doesn't want to talk to me, could you apologize for me when you next see her? I truly feel guilty for saying those things. And rest assured, I will not share them with anyone."

"Thank you, Mr. Corax. You are dismissed."


	27. Preperation

Short one, sorry!

Cecil

Cecil rolled out of bed groaning. The sun had not risen yet, but it was his duty as leader to show the Dissidents out on their mission, and he also had to transfer control of the Blackwagon. The Blackwagon functioned seemingly on its own, but in reality, its movements were tied to the reader's - Cecil's. He could temporarily hand control over to Tariq, due to the pale man's nature as a literal creation of the Scribes, but for long stretches of time, it was far better for Cecil to use it. Too much strain on Tariq's mind. As Cecil ran his fingers through his hair and picked up his glasses, he saw Roman gearing up for the hunt. It was one of the few times the titan wasn't wearing clothing that completely covered him, and as he changed into another, tougher shirt, Cecil could see the terrible scars that ran down his back, memories of his training.

Roman had trained to be an Obsidian, the toughest soldiers in the upside. They were big, mean, and terrifying to friend and foe alike. And they were the best harp/faunus killers the world had ever seen. Roman was in all senses, a full Obsidian, but the training had not been easy on him. He had done some terrible, terrible things before he tried to right them. And his trying to right them got him sent down with the rest of the unfortunate bastards in the downside.

The Obsidian smoothly pulled his armor over his torso and set his mask back into place, his eyes flickering to life. The armor was made of primarily silver rathalos plating, a beast almost as savage as Roman himself. Rathalos were huge, fire breathing dragons that could decimate hunters in seconds, and the silver rathalos were a much more dangerous version of their red cousins. With the armor on, Roman transformed from a monstrous man to just a monster. The silver armor shimmered in the dim morning light, with several bands on his arm glimmering. His terrifying skull mask was a light lavender, with four long, sharp teeth grouped close together and pointing straight at the ground. His three eyes could bore into anyone's very being, and they looked more animalistic than humanoid. Their whites were blacks, the pupils were a stark white, and the iris itself gleamed with a soft pink that would shift to red in the light.

"Good morning, Reader. I am preparing for the mission."

Rubbing his eyes, Cecil nodded and wandered over to the other Dissidents, who were making their own preparations. Tariq straightened his large hat and ran his fingers over the large feather that rested neatly on its back. The pale man's pure white clothing never seemed to get dirty, no matter how much blood and dirt was sprayed over it. His white collar stood tall, neatly surrounding his neck as his deft fingers mindlessly plucked away at his lute, the black feathers on his shoulder staying perfectly still. A clasp in the shape of a crescent moon, his icon, held his cloak together as he lazily tuned his instrument.

Lysander, Soleil, and Riken were all wearing their new Beacon uniforms, with their own accents of course. Riken still had his oversized hat and mage gloves to keep his hands from burning, Lysander wore his white cloak adorned with accents of gold, and Soleil had a smaller version of her shoulder plate set neatly on her right shoulder as well as her gloves, which while once were silver, now were blackened with soot and ash. Cecil raised his eyes and addressed Lysander, the closest Dissident.

"Sasha?"

"Shitfaced."

"Figures."

Cecil strode over to their long swordswoman's bed and kicked the post roughly.

"Get up ya alcoholic bastard! You've got a hunt to go to."

Groaning and refusing to open her eyes, the black haired woman hissed back at him.

"If you're going to wake me up so rudely, do you at least have any Aspirin?"

"No. Now get up."

"Blegh"

She stuck her tongue out at him

"Blegh yourself."

Grudgingly, Sasha Grimmus rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a dull thud. The rest of the Dissidents didn't even look up from their tasks as she picked herself up.

"Aspirin is in the bathroom mirror cupboard."

"Thanks."

Lysander and Tariq were being neurotic as always, straightening his tie and tuning his lune respectively. Solei was lounging around, playing cards with Riken while Roman closed his eyes in meditation. Sasha stepped out of the bathroom fully geared in divine rajang armor. Rajangs were big, ferocious, and clever beasts that appeared as a fusion between a gorilla, a lion, and a bull. When angry, their mane would light up yellow and may the Scribes help anyone caught in an angry Rajang's path. Her armor was black with bits of golden fur and two shining, golden horns on top. Accents of blue held the shoulder plates and hip plates secure while still offering good mobility. Her helmet was designed after the beast's and she held loosely in her hand. The students set out for the lunchroom while the elder Dissidents, along with Cecil, maneuvered towards the hangar where the Blackwagon resided. As they walked down, they ran into Ozpin himself.

"Good morning, Professor. I did not realize you would be up at this hour."

With a smile, he turned and addressed their leader.

"Mr. Corax, I assume this means you found the means to occupy your fellow teammates?"

"Yeah, they've got a contract for a hunt. Nothing crazy, but it'll get them out of your hair for a few days."

"They're acting like huntsmen already. I would love to have them serving Vale, if you would like me to register you as official huntsmen of the Vale kingdom. May I ask what your hunt is? I understand that you are new to fighting Grimm, and perhaps I may offer some pointers."

"Actually, they're on a monster from our home. Nibelsnarf. High rank 2 or low rank 3 or so. Nothing the three of them can't handle, but it should be a good trial run for them."

"Actually, Mr. Corax, you bring up something I wished to talk with you about. May I speak with you in private for a minute? I won't take much of your time."

Roman never moved but even behind his mask and armor, his mood seemed to shift.

"Você é demitido, Roman" (You are dismissed, Roman) Their leader hissed at the giant, who respectfully stepped aside with the other two.


	28. Preperations

Cecil

“Thank you, Mr. Corax. If this hunt is not incredibly dangerous, I’m wondering if I could get you to switch and send teams RWBY, JNPR, and CLRS out instead. If these students are to become huntsmen, it is imperative they learn how to deal with omega grimm.”  
Cecil thought for a moment before closing his eyes and slowly nodding.  
“Yeah, I could do that. I’ve got another assignment for those three anyway, and it means we can take the Blackwagon. I do have one request though.”  
“Thank you very much, Mr. Corax. What is your request?”  
“Those three bums are going to need a car.”  
Ozpin handed him a key as Cecil signaled the others back in.  
“Novo plano. Tenho uma tarefa separada para você três, e nós quatro assumiremos a Nibelsnarf.” (New plan. I have a separate assignment for you three, and us four will take the Nibelsnarf.)  
Tariq smiled and replied back to their leader.  
“Entendido. O que vamos fazer?” (Understood. What will we be doing?)  
“Algo esboçado. Vou preenchê-lo mais tarde.” (Something sketchy. I’ll fill you in later.)  
“Return to the room, Dissidents.”  
All three nodded and walked off in unison, completely unconcerned about the change of plans.  
“The Nibelsnarf serves no immediate danger, so we can depart at any time.”  
“Would lunchtime work?”  
“Yeah, it’s in Vacuo, so it will take a while for us to get to the hunting ground anyway. I’ll stock the Blackwagon for extra passengers and deal with the others.”  
“Thank you for cooperating, Mr. Corax.”  
“The pleasure is all mine, Professor.”  
They went their separate ways as Cecil returned to the room, where the Dissidents glanced up expectantly.  
“Team CLRS will be hunting the Nibelsnarf with two other teams. Team STR -”  
“Team star?”  
“Yes, Sasha, Tariq, and Roman. You three will be going -”  
He pointed to a road on the map laid in front of them.  
“Here.”  
Sasha looked at him coolly.  
“And what’s there?”  
“A convoy.”  
Immediately, the uproar began.  
“We are not common bandits!”  
“I am a hunter and protector, not a thief!”  
“Since when did we raid and kill innocents?”  
Cecil silenced them with a wave of his hand.  
“You three will be going in separate clothes and using these masks. The convoy is guarded exclusively by robots, no people will be hurt. We need two things from that convoy. It is carrying dust, a material that Soleil is going to need if we are going to keep up using explosives or projectiles, and it is carrying a device. That device is what we are really after.”  
“And what is that device?”  
Cecil was never one to withhold details from his team, it only made things more complicated.  
“It’s known as a neural linker, used mainly in prosthetics.”  
“So why don’t you get a prosthetic?”  
“I already technically paid for this one, and it was not cheap. The issue is that it will be turned into a prosthetic once it reaches -”  
He pointed at a factory in Vale  
“Here. Once it is, I won’t be able to use it anymore, as it will be bound to the prosthetic.”  
They shrugged and prepped. No one dared ask what he needed something like that for.  
“By the way, team STR. You will be wearing these in order to avoid getting caught.”  
He extended three latex masks to them. A rooster, a horse, and an owl.  
“Your code names are Richard, Don Juan, and Rasmus. Get the device in one piece, and get as much dust as you can. Eliminate all non-human resistance.”  
Roman took the rooster, Sasha took the horse, and Tariq took the owl.  
“Now get out there and give em hell. Dismissed.”  
They switched out of their armor into more normal clothes and took the keys to the truck lent to them by Ozpin. As they prepared to depart, Tariq’s soothing voice floated over the room.  
“Reader.”  
“Yes, Rasmus?”  
“None of us know how to drive.”  
Cecil chuckled to himself.  
“Learn something new every day.”  
Looking noticeably more worried, the three went to their car. Turning back to the remainder of his warriors, Cecil grinned.  
“Prep the Blackwagon for a trip, there will be 12 of us in total. One team get’s the couches in the common room, and it ain’t going to be us. Grab food supplies and snacks, and make sure we have the entire armory polished, sharpened, and ready to go. You are dismissed from your classes, I’ll explain your absence to the teacher's. I’ll need to talk to the other teams about this, but the rest of you get ready.”  
With a wave of his hand, Soleil, Lysander, and Riken all began shuffling down the hallway towards the hangar. Donning his uniform and deciding against an early morning shower, Cecil dragged himself to the cafeteria and knocked down coffee like Sasha at a bar. He pulled up a book and hung around, waiting for the others. The first to arrive were Weiss, Pyrrha, and Ren, who glanced at him in moderate surprise. Pyrrha smiled and waved at the black and white haired boy.  
“Good morning, Cecil. It’s good to have you back! And I saw you brought some teammates. The world could always use more heroes, but may I ask where they are?”  
“They’re prepping for something.”  
Weiss glared at him, still angry that he had been cruel towards Blake.  
“That ‘something’ better not be anything sinister.”  
Lightly tossing his muffin at her and getting crumbs all over her white outfit, he grinned at all of them.  
“That ‘something’ involves you three and your teammates. Bring your armor and weapon to the hangar at lunch. We’ll provide it.”  
“And what makes you think we’ll just randomly join the barbarians who fell from the sky?”  
“Ozpin wants you with us.”  
Breakfast passed without incident, as Cecil informed the rest of the teams about their group mission but kept his mouth shut when it came to details about the mission, where he was, and who he brought with him. He took special care not to draw attention to himself in classes, answering when called on but never outside of that. He glanced at his phone frequently, checking for updates from team STR. Apparently, Tariq had taken the wheel as Sasha was still hungover and Tariq didn’t fit in the seat. Or any seat. Apparently he was taking up the entire backseat, and from the pictures they sent, the situation was nothing short of comical.  
Lunch arrived and Cecil made his way to the cafeteria, where he sat down at the table and waited. It didn’t take long for all of team RWBY and JNPR to arrive fully geared and eager. Grinning, Cecil kicked himself up out of his chair and gestured to the hallway. He kept silent as he briskly strode down the hallways to the Blackwagon, before arriving and greeting the rest of team CLRS, who had been prepping it. It was fully stocked with food, ammunition, materials, armor, and weapons.  
“Now then, you’re probably wondering why I called you all here.”  
Soelil cut off their leader quickly, saying “this isn’t a business meeting, Cecil. Let’s just get out there, have some fun, and not die.”  
“Get back in the Blackwagon and double check your bomb supplies.”  
She nodded and wandered back into the armory, where she had been making some great new bomb tricks with the addition of dust.  
“Now that Soleil is out of my way,”  
He gestured them into the common room of the Blackwagon.  
“Welcome to the Blackwagon!”


End file.
